Home Sweet Home
by AnArtistAngelWrites
Summary: Two months after the peaceful revolution and living with Hank Anderson, Cyberlife comes knocking and consistently takes Connor away no matter what he does. Eventually, they decide to take him miles away from Detroit. It doesn't matter what obstacles get in his way. Connor will do whatever it takes to get home.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Routines are meant to be Constant, Not Broken**

Connor already finished preparing coffee for Hank and was sitting in the living room, watching a documentary regarding different kinds of water life. He ran his fingers through Sumo's soft long strands of hair, the Saint Bernard having planted himself on Connor's lap. He already took him for his early morning walk while Hank slept. He was fed and ready to have a lazy day until Connor and Hank were to get home from work.

When it was 7:30AM, Hank sauntered out of the hallway and into the kitchen. It was an impressive time. It looked like all of Connor's nagging was slowly starting to pay off.

"Good morning, Hank," Connor said, looking over to the kitchen.

"Mornin'," Hank said. He poured a mug of coffee and came into the living room, plopping himself down in his armchair. His eyes were still a bit droopy but he managed to keep them open.

"You're getting better with your time," Connor said. His lips twitched up slightly. "I'm proud of you."

Hank scoffed. "Whatever."

"We'll have to leave for work in an-"

"Let me wake up for fuck's sake," Hank groaned.

"Yes, Hank."

They sat in companionable silence. Connor waited for exactly three minutes to pass before he decided to confide in Hank.

"I made a new mission for myself," he said. He looked over to Hank. "It's the first time I made one personally."

"Oh yeah?" Hank said. He took a long sip of his coffee. He shifted in his chair. "What's the mission?"

Connor straightened his posture (if it was possible to get straighter than he was) and adjusted his tie. He removed his coin from his pocket and started rolling it across his knuckles. He waited. Hank waited. Then, Hank's patience ran out.

"What's the mission? To constantly show off your tricks?"

"No," Connor said, almost defensively. "I thought I was ready but now I'm not sure."

"Take your time," Hank said carefully, whatever impatience he had dissipating.

Connor thought this would be easy. He was sure Hank wouldn't take _offense_ to it. He wasn't sure how he would take it in general. It was those thoughts that made Connor think of just keeping it a secret.

Then, he blurted out: "You're my mission."

There was a long silence after that.

Connor tossed his coin faster now, almost too fast for human eyes to keep up with. His LED switched to yellow the longer the silence carried on.

Hank laughed. Connor frowned but didn't look at him.

"You're a fuckin' sap, Connor."

Connor caught his coin between his fingers. He finally looked at Hank. He felt a certain warmth course throughout his body at Hank's smile. His LED went back to a calm blue.

"I want to make sure you live a long life," Connor said. He pocketed his coin. "So I wrote the mission."

"Because you always accomplish your mission, right?"

Connor smirked. "Obviously."

Hank finished his coffee with a content sigh. He stood and before he left to get changed, he ruffled Connor's hair. Connor huffed and combed it out with his fingers after Hank disappeared down the hall. He gently shooed Sumo off and stood. He swiped off his dog hair and adjusted his jacket.

His confession turned out much better than he thought it would. He worried for no reason. Later he would have to ask Hank why he felt nervous about sharing his mission. He knew more about emotions than Connor did, even if it had been two months since he deviated.

Out of all the things that came with deviancy, emotions were the hardest thing to grasp. He understood the freedom aspects fine. It took him a while to confidently say he was a person, but with Hank's constant help, he got it. Hank always said the right things, after all. Because Hank always said the right things, he would still go to him with his emotional problems.

Once, Hank asked why Connor didn't try asking Markus or anyone else at Jericho for help. Connor's only response was a shrug. He didn't like the almost scolding look Hank gave him.

It was simply something Hank wouldn't be able to understand. It wasn't complicated to explain, but he knew Hank wouldn't really get it. He was human and so he didn't blame him for that. He would go and visit Jericho when he was ready. Until then, he was more than satisfied living with Hank and working at the Detroit Police Department. He could work efficiently there.

It took Hank a little while to get ready for work. He came out looking much livelier though. His eyes were clearer and his hair less messy. His bright hippy shirt really stood out compared to his darker coat.

During their ride to the DPD, Connor felt a strange sense of unease. He wasn't a superstitious person, but something in the back of his mind told him something was wrong. Either they were going to get a hard case or it was something else, something he couldn't think of at the top of his head.

Long ago, Connor decided that he didn't like not knowing the answer to everything. This was one of those moments when that decision popped up.

When they parked in the station lot, he could tell Hank wanted to question him. He didn't have to meet his eyes to know.

"Everything is fine, Lieutenant," he said to remedy the situation. "Just thinking."

Again, he didn't have to look at Hank to know he rolled his eyes as the two of them got out of the car. Thankfully for Connor, Hank didn't verbally question him. His unease got worse when they actually entered the bullpen. Nothing looked out of place. His scanners didn't pick up anything out of the norm.

It only took ten minutes after Connor and Hank to be seated at their desks and started at work when Connor's bad feeling was confirmed.

"Hank, Connor, my office," Captain Fowler called.

Hank rolled his eyes. Connor stood and followed after him. Unfortunately, it wasn't the same sort of feeling it was when he first followed Hank into the Captain's office. Everything was much different now, in more ways than one. This day in particular was different because of the unease Connor had.

Inside Fowler's office were two other men. They were both dressed in sharp suits and looked like your typical business men. Although they, or at least one of them, wore a friendly expression, Connor didn't feel any less uneasy. There was just something about them, the taller one with the more neutral expression in particular.

Connor shifted closer to Hank. This didn't go unnoticed by his partner.

"This is John Stone, a higher official from Cyberlife." Fowler pointed to the friendlier looking man. Then he gestured to the taller one. "This is Michael Stevens, another Cyberlife employee and Mr. Stone's closest right hand man," he said. He looked to the two men. "Did I get that right?"

Stone nodded. "Yes, you got it."

Connor did his best not to frown and keep his expression neutral. If there was one thing high up on his list of dislikes, it was Cyberlife. Too many terrible things had happened with them. They made him do terrible things, things he would probably regret for the rest of his life.

"Er, I'm Lieutenant Hank Anderson," Hank said, awkwardly. He nodded to Connor. "This is my partner, Connor."

Connor's lips twitched up slightly. It settled him just a little. He always did like being introduced as Hank's partner.

"So this is the RK800." Stone sounded in awe as he stepped forward. He placed a hand on Connor's shoulder and started stroking it. He continued to move his hand down his arm and stroked that. Then he moved to his chest started rubbing where the human heart would be at. Connor did his best to remain still but he couldn't stop his LED from shifting to yellow.

Hank shoved Stone back. "Hands off, asshole."

Connor stepped back and shifted closer to Hank. His LED went back to blue, but it would go yellow for a millisecond.

Much to his surprise, Stone actually looked apologetic and his hands were raised in a placating manner. "I'm sorry," he said. It didn't sound forced. "I've just never seen this model up close before. It's a sight."

"Doesn't give you the right to run your hands all over him," Hank said.

"You're right," Stone agreed, nodding. "I won't do it again."

Connor thought he should've been grateful for that and all his sincerity but for some reason, he didn't. All he thought was that it would be nice for this meeting to be over with. He wanted to get to work on a case with Hank and get away from these Cyberlife employees.

"What is going on here?" Connor asked. He already regretted it. The sooner this was over the better.

"Well, RK800-"

"_Connor_," Hank corrected firmly.

Stone smiled. "_Connor_," he said. "You're still in Cyberlife's registry because you're a prototype."

Connor frowned. "I don't understand. I'm a person now, not a machine."

"You have free will but you were never bought and finished the way other androids were prior to your victory," Stone said. He also quickly added, "I'm glad you did gain it, by the way."

"Sounds like bullshit to me…" Hank mumbled.

"This means that you're still technically Cyberlife's property. Because you weren't a completely finished model yet."

Connor felt his systems stutter at _that _word. _Property_. He didn't like that word, didn't like being referred to it. He had just said he was a person. Stone had said he was glad he gained free will and yet he also had the nerve to call him Cyberlife's property. He wondered if Stone really knew what he was saying.

"Bullshit!" Hank yelled. "Connor isn't an item- he isn't property!"

Connor remained silent.

Stone smiled, but it was a sadder one this time. Connor wasn't sure if it was genuine. "Until he's removed from the registry…"

"Consider it an orphan of some kind," Michael finally spoke up. "Except not alive."

Connor felt sick. His LED circled yellow and red.

Hank stepped forward but before he could do anything, Connor quickly gripped his forearm. He pulled him back gently. Hank looked ready to argue, probably yell some more, but Connor shook his head. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Hank caved to Connor's puppy eyes. The last thing he wanted was for Hank to get into trouble. He barely managed to keep his job after punching Perkins.

Hank looked back to the two Cyberlife employees, clearly ignoring the warning look from Fowler. "How do we get him out?"

"You don't," Michael said. "Mr. Stone just said it wasn't a finished model. There's no reason for it to be in the public."

Connor swallowed back the thirium that started to crawl up his throat. He gripped Hank's arm tighter when he felt him about to move again. The man was vibrating with anger and Connor wished he could find a way to calm him down. But he knew that if he opened his mouth, he would purge.

"That isn't necessarily true," Stone said, tossing a look to Michael. "He can be removed but it isn't as simple as asking for it."

"I don't have to _buy _him, do I?" Hank asked, almost sounding disgusted.

Connor wanted to leave at that moment. He didn't want to listen to this discussion any further. The more it went on, the more uncomfortable he felt. The door was so close. It was only a few footsteps away. He knew it was improper to up and leave in the middle of a meeting, though. He hadn't done that before, never thought he would ever.

Instead, he said, "can I be excused?"

He didn't wait for Fowler or anyone else to give him permission. All he needed was for them to know he was leaving; it was more polite that way.

He exited the office and made a beeline for outside. He took his coin out and started tossing it back and forth. The cool air helped settle his warm body. His LED also managed to land on a solid yellow instead of going back and forth with red. With the exception of the quiet clicks his coin made when he tossed it, there was nothing but blissful silence outside.

He was so lost in thought trying to calm down that he didn't notice anyone walk up behind him until he heard his voice.

"How are you doing, Connor?"

Connor pocketed his coin and turned to face Hank. He didn't like the expression Hank had. He also wasn't sure what to make of Hank's quiet voice. It was like he was afraid he may break Connor by simply speaking.

"I'm better now," he said. And he was. The fresh air felt wonderful. "Is it over already?"

"It's been fifteen minutes," Hank said, as if it was obvious.

"Oh…"

Hank placed his hand on Connor's shoulder. "Let's go for a ride. We need to talk."

Connor frowned.

The ride was silent for the first five minutes. Connor didn't dare ask where they were going. Hank didn't seem like he was going anywhere specific anyway. He just drove all over the place. Connor found it strange how one minute he enjoyed silence and the next he dreaded it. He wanted Hank to say something, anything.

Hank drove around in circles for a while longer before he finally said something.

"So, about this Cyberlife problem…"

Connor shifted.

"I can get you out of the registry but Stone was right," he said. "I can't just ask to get you removed."

"Do you have to buy me?" Connor asked quietly. It was almost inaudible.

"That...or I'm gonna have to _long chat_ with Cyberlife," Hank said. He turned. "In other words, I have to go up to their office, have a long ass meeting, and try to convince them you're allowed to be in the public whether you're only a prototype or not."

"Is it because they think I'm dangerous?" Connor could barely raise his voice.

"No, not that," Hank said, his voice soft. He still didn't look at Connor.

"Are you sure? Since I'm an 'unfinished model' I could have sudden errors or glitches…" Connor listed off some possibilities. Every android could get sudden errors and glitches but Connor could be more susceptible.

"Connor, you aren't dangerous," Hank said again. His voice was a bit firmer.

"I don't understand," Connor said. He wished he could sound more confident, raise his voice, but he couldn't. His head was swimming and he found it hard to concentrate. It was a strange feeling to not be able to concentrate and for his head to be 'swimming'.

"I already set up a meeting with them. I'm going up at 10:00AM- it was the earliest I could get."

Connor took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and his LED cycled yellow. "What happens until I'm out of the registry?"

Hank remained silent. He made another turn.

"Hank."

Hank shook his head.

"Tell me what happens to me, Hank," Connor said, looking at him. "I want to prepare myself."

Hank's next breath came out a bit shaky. Connor looked away; he didn't want to see his eyes. "They're going to take you to one of their 'facilities'. It's one of Stone's, near the Cyberlife Tower."

Connor swallowed the thirium that started to crawl up his throat again. His LED switched to red and stayed there. The absolute last thing he wanted was to stay at a place that belonged to Cyberlife. He didn't care if Stone came off as someone polite and friendly. He never wanted to go back to Cyberlife Tower or Cyberlife's facilities.

He shook his head. This wasn't fair. This was supposed to be over after the revolution. It was a peaceful revolution. Androids were supposed to be free. They worked hard for it. Most, if not all, androids were free.

Why? Why was he being subjected to this? He also worked hard for his freedom. Why was this happening?

"First thing in the morning, Connor," Hank said. "I'm going to get you out as fast as possible."

All Connor could do was nod.

His LED remained red for the rest of the day.

* * *

No matter how hard Hank tried to comfort Connor, nothing worked. Not even Sumo could comfort him. He hadn't said anything to Hank all day. All Connor could think about was that it wouldn't be long until he would be taken to a Cyberlife facility.

It wasn't as if he would stay for long. He trusted Hank to get him out as fast as possible. He really wanted that to be comforting. He wanted to feel relieved and good about Hank's care.

It was 6:30PM when Stone and Michael arrived at Hank's house. His house. Sumo growled at the door, but Hank stopped him from making it outside.

"I'll see you soon," Hank said. He squeezed Connor's shoulder and Connor held his hand in return. "I'm getting you out."

Connor nodded. His LED still hadn't switched back to blue or even yellow. He turned towards the vehicle he was to be placed in. Much to his surprise, it looked manual; an old fashioned looking van. Stone gestured Connor to the backseat. Before he entered he looked back to Hank one last time.

He looked lonely already.

Connor made a decision right there and then.

* * *

The ride to Stone's facility was long. It felt like it was, anyway. It might have only been a short amount of time. To Connor, it felt like an eternity. During the whole ride, he kept his eyes out the window and took in every single building, every single street sign, every single anything that he deemed important when it came to going back home.

Stone's facility was before the gates to Cyberlife Tower and five or so minutes away from it. The building was more like a mansion than anything else. It had a large courtyard that had a large round fountain in the middle of it. Most of the ground appeared to be grass but there was some stepping stones that lead to the mansion, the fountain, and a few other places.

Connor was driven passed the courtyard to a completely different area that looked out of place. It almost looked more like an outdoor prison than anything else. The ground in this area was mostly dirt. A fence separated the cell from the courtyard and the mansion. Inside the fence was where Connor was apparently going to be placed. It was essentially a cage and there were chains that hung on the back stone wall. He highly doubted he would be treated right here.

Stone and Michael led him inside the cell. Connor expected them to chain him up in the back but they didn't. They left him completely free.

"You'll be staying here for only a little while," Stone said.

"If things work out properly, that is," Michael added.

Connor ignored him. He stepped further into his current residence. He didn't have to be bound to already feel like a prisoner. Thanks to the chain link fence, he was able to see his outer surroundings. It probably wouldn't take him long to calculate a route for him to escape from. He did hope he wouldn't have to go out into the open courtyard. He'd have to find a way around it.

He looked up. The fence was fairly high but it wasn't anything Connor couldn't handle. It would be especially easy considering he wasn't bound.

"Michael will be coming around every now and then to check on you," Stone said, snapping Connor out of his thoughts.

He did his best not to groan. "I understand."

After that exchange, Stone and Michael left. He didn't like the look Michael gave him and for some reason, he was reminded of Gavin. Because he would be coming by now and then, Connor wouldn't be able to escape immediately. He decided he would try around midnight. Michael wouldn't come around that late.

As for the security cameras he noticed on the way in...he could handle it. He couldn't deactivate them because it would be too obvious it was him. He would be able to easily use their blind spots.

* * *

Michael checked on Connor every hour. He never said anything to him. He only watched him for a few minutes before going back to whatever else he did. By then, Connor already pre-constructed a way out. He just had to be sure Michael wouldn't come back. He came to that conclusion when the mansion lights turned off along with the outdoor lights.

It was 11:30PM when Connor made his move.

He backed up from the fence and then charged at it. He gripped it tightly and pulled himself up, soon launching himself over. He landed perfectly, not stumbling in the least. He stood straight and adjusted his tie. He straightened his jacket and involuntarily smirked. That was just too easy it was almost pathetic.

It was also a piece of cake to sneak past the security cameras, occasionally pressing himself up against nearby walls to get out of view. He would duck and hide behind an object now and then. When he was in the courtyard, he made a mad dash for the main gate he was brought in to. It was metal and actually looked like a proper cage. It still ended up being easy for him to climb and jump over.

Again, he adjusted his tie and straightened his jacket. He walked down the road in the direction of his home.

* * *

Connor prepped Hank's coffee and took Sumo for his early morning walk. When he got back to the house, he sat on the couch and found some documentaries to watch. They were older ones but it was better than nothing. Sumo sat in his lap and his tail wagged. Connor ran his fingers through his soft fur.

Hank woke up a little later than the prior day. He seemed groggier and was in the middle of rubbing his eyes when Connor spoke up.

"Good morning, Hank."

"JESUS!"

Hank turned so fast Connor was surprised he didn't fall over. His blue eyes were wide for a few seconds before narrowing. He had one brow raised. "What are you doing here? They let you go already?"

Connor smiled. "No, they didn't let me go," he said. "I escaped. It was very easy because they weren't very smart, Hank. They didn't restrain me- they only put me in a fenced off area."

Hank stared at Connor in silence for a long moment. Connor tilted his head curiously. Sumo's head raised and he panted at Hank with a dog-like smile.

"I should've expected you would escape," Hank said, shaking his head. He said this with a smile.

"Of course. I had to come home no matter what," he said. He gestured to the kitchen. "Your coffee is ready."

Hank chuckled lightly and he ruffled Connor's hair. Connor's smile grew at the action. Hank then proceeded to go into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee. He went back to the living room and sat in the armchair with a noise of satisfaction.

"By the way," Connor started. Hank looked at him. "We have to go to work in-"

"Oh for fuck's sake, you just got back and you're already nagging."

Connor smirked.

This was how things were supposed to be. He didn't want his morning routine to be taken away from him. When he first came to Hank's house, he wasn't sure what to do while Hank slept. Yes, he would enter stasis himself but he didn't need to recharge as long as Hank needed to. As such, he learned that he was bored in the early morning waiting for Hank. It took him a week or so to get this morning routine.

He also enjoyed nagging Hank and seeing him get up at a more proper hour. He always wanted to be there to see Hank improve.

"I still need to go to that meeting, though," Hank said. "Or else they might…"

"It doesn't matter."

"What?"

"I'll always come back."

* * *

While Hank was gone at the meeting, Connor had gone to work. He didn't end up staying long, though, because Michael and another Cyberlife employee had come to pick him up. To say he felt embarrassed by being dragged away in front of his colleges would be an understatement. It wasn't fair that they could waltz in and take him back like it was nothing. No less while he was at work. Hank was also still in the meeting. It wasn't fair.

This time, Connor wasn't allowed to sit in the backseat like a normal person. Nor were his hands free. Michael had cuffed his wrists with a chain and forced him into the back of the van. It felt like he was being kidnapped. Unfortunately, there were no windows in the back of the van, so he was stuck in the dark. He didn't mind the dark but it was stuffy in the van. He wanted the freedom of at least looking outside.

When they got back, Michael actually gripped at Connor's arm this time and more aggressively shoved him into the cage. Connor turned to face him and frowned. He had the feeling Michael would act differently if Stone wasn't there.

"I'm back now," Connor said. He raised his hands. "You don't need to keep the chains on."

Michael turned to look at his partner. "Go on now, Carry. I got this."

Carry seemed hesitant. She stepped back before completely turning and leaving the area. She closed the fence, looked back one more time and then started to walk away.

"Back up, RK800," Michael said.

Connor didn't move.

"_Back up_," Michael said again. He removed a pistol he had from inside his jacket.

Connor furrowed his brows and did what he was told. He knew that Michael wasn't really going to shoot him. Kill him, rather. He would probably shoot him in a non-fatal area and it would hinder him from escaping. He would still leave but he didn't want to deal with an injury at the same time.

His back pressed up against the wall where the longer chains were at. He waited for Michael's next move. He wasn't too surprised when Michael removed his current chains and used the long, more secure ones. Little did Michael realize that the cuffs weren't as tight as they should've been. Having his arms still freely by his sides was also a stupid move. Michael would have to try a lot better than that.

A shock aggressively vibrated through Connor's body. He gripped at his midsection where his Thirium Pump was at-

"No," Michael said. He pulled Connor's hand away. "You need to be taught a lesson."

Connor's body started to heat up when he was tased again, the taser being more thoroughly pressed against him this time. He gritted his teeth to prevent himself from giving Michael the pleasure of showing his discomfort. He assumed this was the closest feeling to human pain he would feel.

He shoved Michael back, getting the taser away from him. He took in some deep breaths to cool his systems. Despite the taser being removed, his body still shook. He held his midsection again.

"What's the matter?" Michael scoffed. "Can't take some pain?"

Connor's lips twitched up into a smirk. "_Androids don't feel pain_."

He got tased some more after that but he felt it was worth it just to see the frustration and annoyance on Michael's face.

After five minutes of getting tased and defying Michael in the middle of it, he did start to feel a bit drained, for his systems wouldn't stop heating up and his body kept vibrating. He continued to take deep breaths and slid down the wall to loosen up. His LED went from red to yellow.

"There." Michael put the taser away. He leaned down. "That should teach you not to run away."

He was going to be disappointed as hell when he saw Connor gone then. It would take a little while longer this time, but Connor already knew how he was going to escape. All he had to do was make his wrists bleed a little and he would be able to slip out of the cuffs. If they were tighter it would probably be more difficult but at this rate it would be easy. He just needed to cool down and wait until midnight first.

He froze when Michael ruffled his hair.

_ He ruffled his hair._

Before Michael stood completely, Connor jerked up. He gripped his hand and bit down hard enough to make it bleed. He kept biting down as hard as he could to try and make some bone crack, but Michael shoved him back down.

"Motherfucking piece of-!"

"You can chain me, torture me, beat me, I don't give a shit," Connor muttered, lowly. His eyes were ice-cold when he glared at Michael. "But if you touch me like that again I'm going to do more than bite your fucking hand."

There was only one person allowed to show physical signs of affection like that. Hank Anderson. Everybody else was off limits.

Connor was tased for another two minutes after that.

* * *

Connor got home a little later that night. Even though many hours had passed, he still felt warm and it was uncomfortable. He still got out the way he planned. He dug his fingernails into his wrists where the cuffs weren't covering and dragged them. He dragged enough to get himself to bleed. All he had to do then was slip out his hands and that was that. He wasn't concerned with the scratches he gave himself; his self-repairs would handle it.

Then, just like last time, Connor hopped the fence and sneaked passed the security. He had to be just a little more careful this time because there seemed to be more cameras. It didn't hinder his escape.

He got home at 3:00AM and rested for a bit before doing his morning routine. Just like last time, Hank came out the same time he did the previous day. Just like last time, he was shocked when Connor greeted him.

"You managed to escape again?" Hank asked. He sipped his coffee.

"I did," Connor said. "It was a bit different this time but I managed." He shrugged. "How did the meeting go?"

Hank sighed. Unlike how he would casually plop down in the armchair, he slumped down and looked annoyed. Connor's LED flashed yellow for a few seconds before going back on blue. Hank glared at the floor. Sumo whined.

"What…?"

"These fuckers aren't making it easy," Hank said. He shook his head. "I barely got a word in. I think they're trying to fuckin' manipulate me into giving up on you."

Connor frowned. "So what does all that mean?"

"I had to set up another meeting for today," Hank said. He leaned back in his chair but he still looked annoyed. "Later this time. I'm gonna try and get my piece in much fuckin' faster."

"Are you going to tell me what they said about me?"

"No," Hank said. "It's a bunch of bullshit though, I'll tell you that."

Connor looked down. He wasn't sure how to take that. He wished Hank would be more open with him. It would make things easier for him; maybe put his mind at ease.

"I'm going to get you out, Connor," Hank said. Connor looked up to see Hank giving him a determined look. "No matter what it takes, I'll try to stop this soon. Do you trust me?"

"I trust you more than anyone, Hank."

"Good."

At 10:30AM an inevitable knock came. Sumo jumped off Connor and scratched at the door. He growled and barked. Connor stood and made his way to the door. He grabbed Sumo's collar and pulled him back. Hank gave him some help with that and pulled Sumo into his room, just in case he decided to give Cyberlife what they deserved.

Hank stepped outside with Connor this time. Michael stood there by the back of the van and Carry was with him again. She handed him the chains but looked hesitant like before.

"You don't know when to give up, do you?" Michael said in a friendly tone, as if this was a game.

It was a charade. Something to calm down the already furious Hank Anderson.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing to him?" Hank said, stepping forward.

Connor reached his arm out and stopped Hank from going forward. "Don't, Hank."

"Yes, Lieutenant, it's best if you don't do anything," Michael said, his voice still friendly. He even laughed in an easy-going way. "It'll take you longer to get to your meeting."

"Motherfucker-"

"Please, Hank," Connor near whispered. "It'll make things worse."

He immediately looked away when Hank gave him a questioning and suspicious look. He moved forward and tried not to sigh when he raised his hands. Michael shook his head and cuffed him. Connor had to give him credit for acting as calm as he was because he knew how Michael would be at the facility.

Before Connor was put in the back of the van, he turned to Hank. He mouthed a quick, 'I'm coming back.'

Hank nodded. He mouthed, 'I'll be waiting.'

Hank hesitantly turned and walked back into his house. Although Connor was going to come back, his heart felt heavy when Hank disappeared. He was placed in the back of the van again but this time, Michael remained in the back with him. His wrists were also cuffed tighter. Michael was learning. The van took off.

Michael shoved Connor against the back wall. He wondered how long Michael would be able to stop himself from acting out. He knew he would get a rough treatment again, maybe a little rougher than before. He still refused to give Michael any satisfaction. He would find ways to stop himself from yelling when he got tased or worse.

Before Connor could attempt to talk back, Michael's gun was shoved into his mouth.

"Don't fucking start," Michael growled. "I don't wanna hear any fucking backtalk from you, RK800."

Connor did his best not to shove Michael away. He hated the metallic weapon on his tongue. It gave him a strange sensation. He would prefer to be silenced another way than have a weapon taint the inside of his mouth. He knew there was a chance if he did push him away, though, Michael would pull the trigger a bit faster than Connor could get away in time.

"You are really pushing your luck here," Michael said, moving a bit closer. "I'd fuckin' blow your head off right fuckin' now if I didn't have orders not to."

Connor waited for Michael to say the threat he was dying to make.

"But I'm still allowed to fuck with you because-" Connor did his best not to gag when the gun was shoved further in his mouth. "-Mr. Stone knows you're a _dangerous_ android and I have permission to do whatever it takes to teach you."

Connor highly doubted that was the case. He didn't have to be there to know that when Michael gave reports to Stone, he was feeding him lies and was manipulating him. And why would Stone believe Connor, an android he didn't really know, over someone he worked with probably for years, that something was wrong?

Just like Hank, Connor wouldn't be able to get a word in. Nobody would believe him about his treatment. So, he would handle it on his own. As long as he got home, that's what he cared about the most. That's what mattered. If he had to get tortured first, so be it.

Michael finally removed his gun from Connor's mouth and he found himself exhaling involuntarily. He technically didn't need to breathe. He didn't understand the action. Either way, it felt better to have that thing out of his mouth. His LED slowly shifted back to blue after a few seconds of red and yellow.

Michael held his chin and forced Connor to keep his eyes on him. "You won't be getting out this time 'round," he said. Connor jerked away. "You have my word on that."

* * *

**_Author's note:_**

Annnd this is the start of _Home Sweet Home_. It was originally supposed to only be five chapters but I keep adding new scenes so it's a bit longer now. xD It'll be ten at the minimum, I can say that much.

Now, DBH didn't seem to show any employees from Cyberlife so I had to create some of my own. I don't know how I chose the names, they were completely random. As for why Cyberlife is still around even after the revolution- I still think they would be there but would actually assist the androids with things like providing parts, thirium, repairs, other such things. But there are still assholes who don't really care but people need jobs so. -shrug emoji-

If you wanna keep up with updates or have questions, you can see me at my Tumblr- kurosakimel. There's also other DBH content there if that tickles yer fancy.

Anyway, that's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

~Kurosaki


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Connor's New Mission**

Connor paced back and forth, thinking of different ways to get out. Michael had learned in the sense that he needed to tighten the cuffs on his wrists. He also learned that if he used the chains connected to the wall, it would be harder for Connor to get out of them. He could only walk so far before there was no more slack in the chains. He only made it halfway to where the fence was.

However, Michael still made a mistake. He kept Connor's arms loose by his sides. It didn't matter that the cuffs were tighter. He could still make himself bleed and slip out and if that didn't work, he could still find a way to get out of the cuffs. Then, he would be able to do his usual routine of jumping the fence and sneaking past security.

Michael hadn't left Connor alone since they got back and he watched him like a hawk. He had an antagonizing smile on his face and his arms were crossed over his chest. If he thought he was going to win, he was wrong. Connor wouldn't let him.

"Why are you so antsy?" Michael asked. "You were so confident before."

"I still am," Connor said. He wasn't going to outright admit what he was doing. Michael was ridiculous.

"Could've fooled me," he said. He tilted his head. "Just admit you can't think of a way to escape."

Connor shook his head. He stopped pacing and looked at him. "You made a fatal mistake, Michael," he said. He raised his hand. "Having my arms by my side is foolish."

Michael laughed. "_You're_ foolish if you think I don't know that."

"You didn't know that before."

Connor held back a smirk when Michael tossed him an insulted look. He looked ready to go into the cage and shove Connor around some more.

"That was then, this is now," he said, shaking his head. "I'm currently waiting for some help. Then you'll be done."

"Help?"

"I know for a fact that if I attempted to chain you in this particular way, you would be able to shove me away easily," he said. He smiled. "With my temporary help, you'll have a harder time."

Connor furrowed his brows.

"You know, it was almost easy to ask for help. I wasn't sure if I would be able to get some," Michael continued. His smile grew. "But you have quite the reputation…"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

Unfortunately, Connor did feel like he knew. He really hoped he was wrong. He hoped nobody would be petty enough to help.

"It isn't Detective Reed, if that's what you're thinking."

Connor shook his head. "I know."

Michael must've done some research if he knew that Connor and Gavin had a very rocky relationship. Even after two months, Gavin didn't seem to change. He still patronized Connor. There were times he left him alone but he usually started something, no matter how small it was.

"Really, now."

Connor was done giving Michael the time of day.

Connor had to put up with Michael's annoying hawk eyes until it was midday. His help arrived and unfortunately, it was what Connor thought.

A TW400 android made his way up to the fence and stood by Michael's side. Connor stepped back a bit to give himself some slack. When they entered, Connor tried reading TW400's expression, tried to see if maybe he was only pretending to help Michael and was really going to help Connor get out.

Connor didn't get that impression from him. TW400 looked almost too casual for what was going on. It was like it didn't matter that he was assisting someone in abusing one of his own.

...But Connor did that once. He hurt his own when he was a machine. It was beyond his control, though. He would've never done any of the terrible things he did if he had a choice in the matter. He didn't have a choice back then. He wished other androids would realize that.

He looked passed the two of them and at the fence. It was closed but Connor doubted Michael locked it after they entered.

The second Michael was behind his back and unlocking his cuffs, Connor twisted around and shoved him away. He pulled his other wrist free. He had to duck from an oncoming punch from TW400. He kept his eyes on the fence and ran. He didn't get much farther until TW400 gripped at his arm and pulled him back around. Connor had to duck again but this time he rammed his elbow into TW400's stomach.

It was a shame androids didn't feel the same kind of pain humans did and couldn't really get winded. He wasn't surprised that TW400 could come back fairly quick, considering that this model was created for heavy duty work.

"I know you're mad-" Connor stepped to the side. "-But I never meant to hurt anyone!"

TW400's hand wrapped around his throat and lifted him from the ground. Connor kicked his stomach but it didn't deter him as much as he wanted. TW400 slammed him onto the ground and his systems stuttered at the impact. A foot was planted on his chest, keeping him on the ground.

"Thank you, TW400," Michael said, walking up to the two of them. He patted TW400's shoulder.

Connor ignored him and stared at TW400's eyes. The android didn't look regretful or ashamed at all. He shouldn't have felt offended and hurt but part of him did. He would have to ask Hank about that when he got back.

TW400 gripped the lapels of Connor's Cyberlife issued jacket and lifted him from the ground. He was twisted around and he grit his teeth to prevent himself from yelling out when his arms were twisted behind his back. Normally, it wouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. However, his arms weren't twisted in a normal position. He didn't have to look at himself to know they were bent in an unnatural way.

"You don't have to do this-" Connor muttered. His arms were pulled back tighter as a response.

"I told you, RK800," Michael started as he moved behind him. He had a different set of chains. "You have quite the reputation."

He didn't have to see Michael to know he had a shit-eating grin. He bit his lip to hold back another shout when both his hands were bent up unnaturally. He could almost feel the back of them touching each other. His lip started to bleed he bit so hard.

"That probably hurt," Michael said. "Can't take any chances, though."

Connor didn't say anything.

"What? Got nothing to say? No _androids don't feel pain _bullshit?"

"..._Fuck you_."

Hank would probably be proud of that.

Instead of Connor's wrists being cuffed, it was his forearms. His sleeves were rolled up and the metal clamped around his bare arms, forcing them to press against each other. He tried to pull them apart, just to see if he could get any space between them. Nothing happened. They were stuck in place, as if they were glued together.

He sighed. "TW400, listen, I'm sorry about-"

TW400 wrapped one arm around his neck and had a hand press down on the top of his head. He pressed hard enough to where he couldn't move his jaw and attempt to speak. He was surprised his head hadn't started to crack.

He tried to jerk his head away when, what looked like a muzzle for humans (?), was pressed against his mouth. TW400 held him still. The muzzle was pulled and strapped behind his head by what sounded like metal clamps.

TW400 let his head go. Immediately, Connor lifted his shoulder as close to his cheek as possible to try and pry to muzzle off. It was pressed too tight and even if it wasn't, his shoulder barely brushed his cheek. Connor tried speaking but couldn't move his lips; whatever words he tried to say were muffled.

Michael walked back in front of him, still looking as smug as ever. He scratched under Connor's chin, as if he was petting an animal. "There, that's better," he said in such a sickly sweet tone it actually gave Connor a slight chill. "Now I don't have to deal with your backtalk."

He backed up into TW400 but kept his glare on Michael. Had it been up to him, he would've beat the shit out of him by now. But he knew. He knew if he did, things would get worse for his situation. It would get worse for Hank, too. He probably wouldn't be able to convince Cyberlife to let him go if Connor showed too much violent hostility.

_**RK800- Connor**__: TW400, why are you using your freedom like this? Does it really not bother you?_

If he couldn't speak, he may as well try to send messages to TW400. He felt almost frustrated when TW400 didn't respond. He had nothing to be afraid of; Michael wouldn't be able to see the messages.

"Thank you for your help, TW400," Michael said. He beamed like a child who got the best birthday present he could ask for. "It's been quite troublesome."

"I'm glad to have helped."

Connor's LED turned red for a moment before going back to yellow.

_**RK800- Connor**__: Tell me you're joking. This is cruel behaviour. How could you let this happen?_

"You may go now," Michael said, gesturing to the fence. "May I call you again if I need you?"

"Yes, that's alright."

Connor closed his eyes. He felt sick again, like he did when he first met Michael and Stone. It was different this time. It almost hurt. He tried not to purge and tried to ignore the strange feeling that started to spread through his body. He wasn't sure if he wanted to confide in Hank about this one.

The fence closed and TW400 left the premises. Connor opened his eyes again and didn't stop glaring at Michael.

"I don't know what you expected," he said. He shrugged. "This is your own fault that people don't like you."

There was more to it but this idiot wouldn't be able to understand.

Connor inwardly sighed and looked over at the fence again. He looked it up and down. It seemed much higher for some reason now. He knew it couldn't have changed in the short amount of time he was gone. He looked away from it.

"I told you. You won't be getting out this time."

It was almost funny how the fence was the easiest part of Connor's escapes. Now, without his arms, it was the hardest. The front gate would also be harder, too. Michael learned. He hoped he wouldn't have. He hoped he would remain stupid or at least not get this smart.

Connor looked down.

...The ground was _dirt_. _Soft _dirt.

He moved to the back of the cage and leaned against the wall. He didn't want Michael to get the idea he knew what to do. It would take longer for him to get out by digging, especially because he would have to dig with his feet. It wasn't impossible. People had done it before. Now it was his turn. He wasn't sure what to do about the front gate, but he would deal with it when the time came.

Michael watched him some more and Connor really wanted to tear his eyes out. He stalked up to him and Connor waited for it. He waited for the taser treatment. He even gave Michael a challenging look. As challenging as he could look while being bound and gagged, that is.

Michael did pull out his taser. He shifted it to the highest power. He moved it close to Connor's Thirium Pump but didn't actually make contact. If he was trying to be intimidating, it wasn't working.

Connor would've frowned if he could've when Michael turned the taser off and put it away. He leaned back when Michael moved in too close for comfort. Then, he started to stroke the side of Connor's face, as if that would be comforting.

"I'm not that much of a cruel bastard," he whispered. "You look shitty enough as it is."

Enough was enough.

Connor tilted his head back and _slammed _it against Michael's forehead. Michael cursing and gripping his now (somewhat) bleeding forehead felt satisfying. The man groaned and the anger radiating off him might've overwhelmed Connor had he not been so satisfied.

"_Fucking. Android_."

Connor ended up getting tased but it was only for one minute.

* * *

Midnight came around and Connor went to work at digging under the fence. He dug with his heels and the tips of his toes. It felt strange to dig in this way but it was the only way Connor knew how to in his position. It took him an hour to get a fairly deep hole but when he tried to slip through, it wasn't deep enough. So, he would back out and keep digging. This was the biggest problem in escaping this way- it would take a while to make a decent sized hole.

While he dug, he got a message from TW400. He wished he didn't.

_**TW400**__: Why should I help you after what you did to us?_

_**TW400**__: You did worse things than this. You're a hypocrite._

_**TW400**__: It's only fair you get some treatment. It's funny how the Deviant Hunter is now the hunted._

Connor dug harder out of frustration.

It took him two hours to be able to slip out of the hole he dug. It was still a bit tight but it was better than nothing. He shook his body to try and get off any dirt. He stood and started for his usual escape route.

Then, "RK800!"

_Shit._

He looked over his shoulder and saw Michael running in his direction. He should've expected he would check on him. This man just didn't know when to give up. Connor turned back around and continued to run as fast as he could. He ignored the cameras this time; it didn't matter now that he was spotted.

He made some random maneuvers to try and distract Michael as he ran. He made some stumbles, himself. He hadn't realized how much his upper body really helped with his movements until he was bound this way. He was still an android, though, and as such he was faster than Michael. He could make some stumbles now and then.

When he got to the gate, he skidded to a stop. A Cyberlife employee, it looked like Carry, had just entered.

_Open the gate, open the gate, open the gate._

"Carry, don't just stand there!" Michael called from far behind. "Stop it!"

_Open the gate, please open the gate_.

Connor stepped forward. He tilted his head and gave the best 'kicked puppy' look he could manage. He felt like a kicked puppy- he may as well act like it. It was the only trick he had up his sleeve. He didn't want to hurt Carry; she wasn't the one who treated him horribly. She actually seemed opposed to Michael's treatment.

"Keep the gate closed!"

_Please, I just want to go home_.

Carry looked determined. She turned around and shoved the large gate open. Connor wasted no time in bolting out of there, giving a quick grateful nod before running down the street.

"I said to keep the gate _closed_!"

"Oh...I thought you said to _open_ it."

With Michael on his tail, he couldn't go straight home. He had to stick with alleyways and abandoned buildings for the moment.

* * *

Connor trudged onto Hank Anderson's porch at 5:05AM and kicked the door lightly. He didn't want to break it open. It was bad enough he broke his window. He didn't want to break the door, too. He kicked harder when he got no response. The only response he got was Sumo sniffing at the door, then him whining, and then him trotting away.

Heavy footsteps neared. The door flew open and Connor stepped back. "For fuck's sake, wha-" His eyes widened when he saw Connor. He stared in shock, looking him up and down. Connor looked away. Hank reached over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Come on, kid. I'll get these off."

Connor refused to look at Hank as he was led into the kitchen. He carefully sat on one of the chairs Hank pulled out for him. He stared at Sumo, who continued to whine and rest his head on Connor's lap.

The first thing Hank did was carefully remove the muzzle. He threw it into the garbage, making a noise of disgust. He then proceeded to remove the cuffs from Connor's arms. Connor sighed and lowered his arms to his sides. It felt nice to have them loose again and in a more natural position.

He looked at his hands. They were completely twisted around. Sumo licked them. When Hank came around to face Connor, he showed him his hands. Hank took them hesitantly and took a deep breath. Connor nodded. Hank twisted his hands back to their normal position quickly. Connor grunted quietly but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. He rubbed them. His self-repairs would do the rest.

"What's going on, Connor?" Hank asked, his voice soft. He took another chair and sat across from him. "What are they doing to you there?"

"Nothing you would approve of," Connor said, almost in a whisper. His LED had been yellow the whole time.

"Connor-"

"I'm not telling you, Hank," he said. He shook his head. "You'll rage at them and then they won't bother listening to you. It's just going to get worse."

"This is not okay, Connor."

"Neither is the chance of them not listening to you and me being stuck there."

Hank sighed but Connor knew the frustration wasn't targeted at him. "I'm working as fast as I can."

"They're still not making it easy, are they?"

"Not in the least."

"I'm hoping that eventually they'll just let me go on their own the more I escape," Connor said. His LED switched to red for a second. "Why don't they get the message?"

"'Cause they're assholes," Hank said, shaking his head. "Do you trust me to get you out?"

"I trust you," Connor said, firmly. "Do you trust me to come back?"

"Always."

Connor smiled slightly. His LED slowly turned back to blue. "Okay."

Hank stood. "Why don't you get some rest?"

"Sure," Connor said. He would've preferred doing his routine first but Hank would nag him to rest. He stood and immediately headed to the couch, but Hank snagged his arm. He turned. "What?"

"I think you deserve to sleep in a bed," Hank said. "Use my room tonight."

"It's early morning-"

"_Connor_."

"Thank you, Hank."

With that, Connor went for Hank's room with Hank following after him. He sat on the bed and removed his shoes. He took his coin from his pocket and held it out for Hank.

"What's this for?"

"In case something happens…" Connor said. He grabbed Hank's hand and put the coin in his palm since Hank didn't seem like he was going to take it any time soon. "This is my reassurance I'll come back."

Hank scoffed. "So, if you don't come back for this ol' man, you'll come back for your coin, huh?"

"Of course." Connor held Hank's hand when he rested it on top of his head. Then Hank practically forced him to lie down and sloppily threw the covers on him.

"Go to sleep, son."

Before Hank turned to leave, Connor grabbed his wrist. "Wait." He patted the empty space next to him. "You need some more rest, too. The couch won't be good for your back."

_**Translation:**__ I don't want to be alone._

Hank nodded and walked around to the other side of the bed. He slid in and Connor adjusted his position to give him more space. He lied on his side while Hank remained on his back. He made sure Hank's eyes were closed first before pulling himself closer. He rested his head on Hank's chest and focused on the beat of his heart.

He entered stasis peacefully.

That was the last time they had physical contact.

* * *

"Connor's just going to keep running away," Hank said, following Connor and Michael outside. "Leave him alone. I will fucking do anything at this rate."

The back door of the van was already open and waiting for Connor to hop in.

"Listen, Lieutenant Anderson…" Michael's tone was all too friendly as was the smile on his face. "_It's not your __**son**_."

Connor froze. His LED burned crimson.

"_And __**he's **__not your __**fucking property**__._"

Connor was sure that if Hank had his service weapon or revolver, he would've shot Michael right there and then.

He was turned around and placed into the van. "It is," Michael started, "until it's out of the registry."

"If I-"

"Oh for god's sake." Michael finally dropped the charade and scowled. He took out his pistol. "_Back off_ and _shut the fuck up_."

He removed the safety-

"Michael, _stop_!"

Connor jumped out of the van and tackled him. The gun went off but thankfully in a different direction. He straddled Michael's waist. He forced the bastard to look at him, his eyes almost pleading.

"I'm going, okay? I'm going- just don't hurt Hank!"

There was a long few seconds of silence.

"...Okay."

He got off Michael and put himself in the van again. He didn't look at Hank as the doors were shut. He didn't have to look at him to know he was saying, or at least mouthing, that he would wait for Connor's return. All the while, Connor kept track of all the different laws Michael had been breaking since this started.

He hoped Hank kept track and was also waiting for the right time. There would be a time and place to arrest Michael but now was not it. If they wanted him to do some hard time, he would have to break more laws. So, they would have to wait and he hoped Hank knew that. He couldn't arrest him too soon.

During the ride back, Connor didn't do any pre-constructions ahead of time.

* * *

Connor was back in the cage, bound and gagged again. This time, though, Michael made sure to chain him to the wall. He also made the chains shorter and so Connor could barely reach the halfway point to the fence. He seemed to have gotten a more secure lock, too. Connor never bothered with it before, so he assumed Michael was trying to be smart and cautious.

He didn't get the taser treatment when he was brought back, much to his surprise. Michael, among some others, just locked him away. All the while, Michael would come back and check on him longer than he used to.

It was 10:30PM when Michael actually talked to Connor.

"You really jumped to conclusions today," he said. He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Connor's head. "_Bang!_"

Connor inwardly sighed.

"That's what you thought I was gonna do Lieutenant Anderson." He put the gun away.

Of course he did. He may not have if Michael didn't remove the safety. Even if the safety wasn't removed, for all Connor knew, Michael would've pistol-whipped Hank at the very least. He didn't want Hank to get hurt; not because of him. He wasn't sure what else to do in that moment.

"I would never shoot someone, RK800," Michael went on.

As far as Connor was concerned, Michael was the one who needed a muzzle on. He ranted enough.

"Nevertheless, you won't have to be worried about Lieutenant Anderson anymore."

Connor furrowed his brows.

"Trust me, by the time tomorrow comes, he won't want you anymore," Michael said. He laughed one of the most annoying laughs Connor's ever heard. Then, he gestured between the two of them. "We'll be going on a trip tomorrow."

Connor's LED flashed yellow for a second before going back to blue.

"It's already been approved of. We figured it's the best way to teach you. Taking you far away will do the trick."

REWRITING MISSION…

He wanted to keep his original mission for Hank. He still wanted to make sure he lived a long life. But he wouldn't be able to do that if he wasn't there.

MISSION REWRITTEN

**MISSION: GO BACK HOME**

He would change it back when things settled down and Cyberlife stopped doing this to him.

"No more escaping, RK800."

Michael turned and finally left him alone. Connor leaned back against the wall and stared up. He wasn't leaving Detroit. Even if he was, it would make no difference. There were only two ways to stop him. He would either have to be completely reset, back to being a mindless machine. Or, he would have to be torn to pieces and deactivated.

Although he preferred running away the same night he was taken away, he had the feeling that tomorrow, whenever he would be prepped for the trip, would be better. He'd be out of the cage, probably in the parking lot to be shoved in that goddamn van, and probably free enough to make a mad dash.

He would have to stay hidden in some alleyways and abandoned buildings for a while but it was better than staying anywhere near the facility. It was also better than being taken away.

Unease washed over him at the idea of not running away in the same night he was taken. Hank had reassurance he would come back, though. He would just have to wait a few more hours first.

The unease grew.

* * *

He was right.

At 1:00PM the next day, Connor was forced out of the cage and dragged into the nearby parking lot. It was fairly empty only having two cars, the van, and a delivery truck. The only people aside from him were Michael and TW400 who was holding him in place. His arms were still bound behind his back but not nearly as uncomfortable and unnatural like before. The muzzle was also off.

He was surprised when he wasn't immediately thrown in the van or delivery truck. Michael was always so enthusiastic to do so. Instead, he just stood there and stared out at the road, tapping his foot.

Connor tried prying himself away from TW400 but he didn't release him or loosen his hold. He had tried talking TW400 out of it but was ignored. After his responses the other day, he wasn't all that surprised.

It was around 2:10PM when an all too familiar car pulled up into the parking lot.

"Ah, there he is."

Any tension Connor had dissipated the moment he saw Hank exit his car and come his way. Things worked out if he was here. Finally, he managed to talk Cyberlife into letting him go. This whole thing Michael set up was just a trick.

Connor involuntarily smiled. "Hank, you've come to get me out. Thank you."

Michael scoffed and shook his head.

Connor ignored him. He wasn't important.

"No, Connor."

_No?_

"I've come to say goodbye."

Dread washed over Connor faster than his LED changed yellow.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

Do ya'll hate Michael? You should. He's an asshole. Poor Connor just wants to be home with (dad)Hank, but he can't have that one thing. ;_;

And that moment in Hank's room is the fluffiest moment you'll get this whole story. So enjoy it- god damn enjoy it.

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

~Kurosaki


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: T̶h̷i̴s̶ ̴i̵s̴ ̸F̵a̵i̵r̸**

"What do you mean you're here to say goodbye?"

That wasn't right. Hank must've been testing his patience or his trust or _something_. He didn't mean he was here for goodbye. He wasn't here for that.

"Cyberlife was right, Connor," Hank said. "You're a dangerous machine."

Connor swallowed back the thirium that almost left his mouth. It burned his throat. His body began to heat up. This wasn't right.

"You don't mean that, Hank," Connor said. "You _know _you don't mean that. _I_ know you don't mean that."

Hank shook his head.

Connor tried to smile. "You helped me become a _person_, Hank..._You_ did that- I'm a person because of you."

It was always Hank. He was always the one there for him.

_Hank saved him._

"No," Hank said again. "You're a machine, Connor. You're a _bad_, _dangerous __**machine**_."

His tone didn't match his words. His eyes also betrayed his words. They looked...somber, almost pained. Connor could only come to one conclusion because of that.

"Hank, what did they say to you?" he asked. He tossed a quick glare to Michael before looking back to Hank with softer eyes. "What did they say to you that's making you act this way?"

He raised a hand. "Connor, you don't get it."

He didn't. That was the problem. He wanted Hank to tell him. He wanted Hank to tell him the right things. He wanted Hank to take him away. He wanted to nag Hank, go to work with him, make sure he lived a long life, he wanted...He wanted so much.

"Hank…"

"Connor." Hank's voice was firmer now. His eyes seemed a little harder but Connor still saw sorrow in them. "_I don't want you anymore_."

Connor had a hard time keeping himself from purging. He shook his head. After what happened the previous night, Hank couldn't have meant that. He couldn't have meant any of this. He was so determined to keep Connor, to save him from Cyberlife. He comforted him. He helped him. This wasn't Hank.

Connor couldn't think straight. So many thoughts swirled in his mind. He almost found it hard to remain standing. He tried puppy eyes on Hank, almost as a playful thing like he usually did, but Hank didn't respond. Connor's puppy eyes turned into pleading ones.

"Stop it, Hank," he barely managed to say. "You don't mean it."

"You're _bad_, Connor," Hank said again, even firmer. His eyes still betrayed him. Then, he turned to Michael and waved his hand in a lazy manner. "Just…" he sighed deeply. "Just fucking take him away."

He turned and started to walk.

Connor's LED burned red.

"No, Hank," Connor pleaded. He tried to step forward, but TW400 held him back. "Please, you can't let them do that! H-_mmph_!"

TW400 firmly clamped his hand over Connor's mouth. Connor tried jerking away. Hank stopped in his tracks and turned. They stared at each other for a long moment. Connor narrowed his eyes when Hank's lips started to twitch. It was as if he was trying to _say something_. Something...

Then, Hank turned and kept walking. Connor tried yelling at him to come back. His muffled yells were interrupted by Michael's words.

"What did I say? Lieutenant Anderson wouldn't want you anymore."

Connor ignored him, keeping his focus on the retreating Hank Anderson. His systems stuttered when he got back in the car and left him alone in the parking lot. He stopped struggling when the car left his sight. His body slumped and he just stared blankly at the empty road.

"Get it locked and loaded, please, TW400."

"Yes, sir."

TW400 started to drag Connor to the delivery truck. He glared daggers at Michael. His dread was replaced with fury. He struggled against TW400 to get to Michael- to break his bones, to _tear him apart_.

"_You_," he snapped, once he was able to. "What the hell did you do to Hank? What did you say to him to make him act like that?"

Michael spread his arms. "I didn't _do _or_ say anything_ to him," he said. Connor wanted to get rid of that smug smile he had. "Everything he said was on his own will."

"No," Connor said. He shook his head. He continued to struggle against TW400. "Hank would never call me a _machine_. He would never throw me away!"

"Well, he just did." Michael followed him and TW400. "Didn't he, RK800?"

TW400 hopped into the back of the delivery truck and dragged Connor in with him. "Stop struggling."

"Fuck you! Fuck both of you!"

TW400 tied the chains on a metal hook connected on the back wall. There wasn't much inside the truck. There were just some metal crates stacked around. There were no windows again; Connor wouldn't be able to check which streets he would go on.

It wasn't much, but Connor kicked TW400's legs as he started to leave the truck. He wasn't sure if they were being nice to not chain his legs or they were being stupid. His frustration grew when TW400 decided not to respond to his violent action. He should've kicked harder.

Michael hopped in. "You know, none of this would've happened if you just stayed here. If you just let Lieutenant Anderson handle the situation..." he said. "But no. You had to fight and run away, didn't you?"

"You expecting me to stay here is ridiculous. I didn't do anything wrong- you have no right to do this."

"Yes, I do," Michael said. He looked out to the open road. "You heard Lieutenant Anderson say it, too. You're a bad, dangerous machine."

Connor took a deep breath. There was no point in arguing with him. He would deny everything.

"Where are you taking me?"

Michael looked back to him. "Why?" he scoffed. "Where are you going to go? What are you going to do? Nobody's going to help you."

He didn't expect help. "Just tell me. I have the right to know."

"You don't," Michael said. "Anyway, you need to take a nap, RK800. It's going to be a long fucking trip."

Connor didn't know what happened after that. Everything just went black.

* * *

When Connor exited his forced stasis (?), he couldn't move right away. It wasn't because he was chained. As a matter of fact, the chains were no longer there. His limbs simply refused to respond to his commands and he couldn't help but think Michael messed him up in some way. He did that a lot.

While he lay there on the floor, trying to get his limbs to respond, he thought back to what happened in the parking lot. He almost felt numb, thinking that the last time he saw Hank he looked somber and pained. Connor wanted to go back and get him to smile. He wanted them to have a good day for once.

He tried to think of what Hank was saying to him. He felt like he knew. He was able to read Hank's lips just fine before. He wasn't sure why he couldn't this time.

"H-H-Ha…"

He couldn't move his lips properly. They barely opened and his voice sounded almost static-y. So, Michael also did something to his voice modulator then. What a guy.

He took this time to also look around. He noticed he wasn't in the same truck anymore or maybe not a truck at all. The floor was much smoother and colder and the space was wider. The ceiling and walls also looked smoother. There was nothing in the room except for him lying there.

What bothered him was the speed of the vehicle he was in. It felt like it was going far passed the normal speed limit. There were also some bumps now and then. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what kind of road he was on. He knew Hank wouldn't approve of such a bad one.

His LED flashed yellow. Then, Hank's words hit him so fast it almost gave him whiplash.

_'I'll be waiting.'_

Connor groaned. He wanted to hide his face in his hands in shame. He should've caught that. It's something Hank told him every time he was taken.

"I-I-I…"

_Come on, Connor._

"I'm-m-m c-co…"

_Come on._

"-Ming...c-com-ming...ba-ba-back…h-h-h-ome…"

_Good enough._

He wished he could've told Hank that. He was probably waiting for him to say that, but he didn't. Instead he begged him not to leave him alone. He already planned on going back no matter what happened. But Hank probably wanted him to say it, or at least mouth it like he usually did.

"S-s-sorr-y-y…"

He decided he didn't like when his voice modulator didn't work. He decided he didn't like not being able to speak in general. He realized this not long after being muzzled.

"W-w-ait f-f-f-or m-me-e."

He knew he would. But it settled his systems to say it out loud.

His LED shifted back to blue.

Once his limbs decided to respond to him, he would start thinking of ways to escape.

* * *

Connor pressed his ear against the wall and tried to focus on the noise outside. The vehicle hadn't stopped moving at its obnoxiously fast speed. He wasn't trying to focus on that, though. The more he concentrated, the more it sounded like metal on metal or steel on steel or _something _metallic. That was all he could figure out in his confined space and it made him want some windows to look out of.

He didn't fail to notice that there was a door on the far wall when he got up. He also didn't fail to notice the obnoxious lock on it. It made him feel like he was in a large safe. He wasn't quite sure what to do about it yet. He assumed Michael would check on him soon enough. That would be his chance to get out of there.

Until then, he tried to bust it open himself. He tried pulling at it aggressively. He tried kicking it, punching it, ramming his body into it. He tried whatever he could think of but got no results.

One thing he did know was that he needed to get out before the vehicle stopped. He didn't want to be in their sights when he ran. If they saw which direction he went they would be able to get him faster. He didn't want that- he didn't want them to catch him at all. Not if they were far away from Detroit.

He hoped he wasn't too far away. He wasn't sure how long he had been in stasis for.

He tried to ignore the unease. He'd give anything to not feel this frustrating feeling again.

It probably wasn't smart, but he gave it a shot anyway. "Hey!" He pounded on the door. "Michael! Somebody, get me out!"

He didn't know how he felt yelling like this. But if it worked, it worked. He decided to try again. "HEY! I'M IN TROUBLE HERE!"

Just in case there were other people around.

...Something told him that if he was human, he would probably be blushing from embarrassment, yelling (probably) at nothing and outright admitting he was in trouble. Pride, he decided, could make things more embarrassing than they probably were.

He went to pound on the door again but it opened before he got the chance. He backed up a few steps and lo behold. His current worst enemy waltzed through the door. His eyes roamed over his body. He didn't see the taser.

"I was wondering when you'd get up," Michael said. "You're still noisy as ever. Think of the other passengers. But this is the emptier side...I guess you can get away with it this time."

"Where are we?"

"We're on a train to wonderland," he replied sarcastically. He closed the door behind him.

Connor's eyes widened for a split fraction of a second. His LED went red.

They were alone.

There were no cameras.

There were no chains.

There was no taser.

They weren't at the Cyberlife facility.

They weren't in Detroit.

Hank Anderson would not get in trouble.

Connor gripped Michael's shoulder and twisted him around. He slammed his head against the wall once. Then another time. He let him go and the man grabbed at his bleeding head. It was much worse compared to when Connor head-butted him the other night.

"Fuck-!"

Connor grabbed him again and tossed him onto his back. Michael had rendered him immobile. Now, he would return the favour.

It was _fair_.

He kept one foot on Michael's chest to keep him still and looked over his body. Where was a good place to start? Eventually, he just slammed his other foot on Michael's knee. A loud crack accompanied by Michael's agonized scream echoed in the room. He pressed his foot down harder, effectively cracking more bone.

It was _fair_.

"Help- Get off-!"

_Help?_

Connor kneeled and clamped his hand over Michael's mouth. "No, no, no…" he scolded, his tone cold and mechanical. His lips twitched up slightly. He tilted his head. "You are not allowed to call for help."

Connor wasn't allowed to in his time of need. Michael wasn't allowed to either.

It was _fair_.

He tore off one of Michael's sleeves and gagged him with it. He thought of strangling him unconscious but _that _wasn't fair. Michael had to be awake the way Connor was when he got tortured. He wanted Michael to feel every. Single. Thing. This was going to be _slow_. And he was going to make sure Michael felt _everything_.

It was _fair_.

He started with his dominant arm. To stop Michael from trying to pry him off, he had his knee press against his other arm. Then, he went to work. He started by twisting his hand in a full circle, similar to how Michael had done it to him. (It was _fair_). He also bent his fingers. The more he bent and broke, the more he was rewarded with screams, smothered or not.

He examined Michael's arm and sighed dryly. He snapped it upright, like how he saw children snap twigs. The bone jutted out of the skin and blood started to slip passed some cuts Connor ended up making. (It was _fair_). He decided he wanted to tear the whole arm off. So, he twisted it and bent it and pried at it.

Then he stopped halfway. There was a probability that Michael would pass out or possibly die from blood loss if he tore the whole arm off. _That _wasn't fair. Instead, he only dislocated it from the shoulder down. He was still rewarded with Michael's pained noises and expression, so it sufficed.

He went for the other arm but stopped for a moment. He looked at Michael's face. His eyes were wide and full of fear and tears streamed down his cheeks. Connor decided he wasn't brave or strong if it only took one broken, bent out of shape arm to make him cry.

"That probably _hurt_," Connor muttered. He wondered if the voice that left his mouth was his. It didn't sound like it; it didn't sound _normal_.

He shook his head. It didn't matter. What did matter was that he wasn't done yet. He moved to the other arm and took his hand. He started twisting it every which way. He tugged at it, bent it, and kept twisting it. Michael wouldn't die from blood loss if his hand was ripped off, right? It was just a _hand_.

After some more twisting and tugging, Connor finally managed to rip Michael's hand from the rest of his arm. He wished he could do that with the entire arm. He hated that he had to be cautious. But Michael's agonized cries were worth it. He tossed the hand away.

He shifted his weight now and started searching through Michael's jacket. If he didn't have the taser, he had to have had something else. He had to have had his gun or maybe a knife or something.

"There it is."

He took Michael's hidden gun. He got off his shaking, broken body and backed away. He looked it over, his eyes cold and calculating. The magazine was still full.

"Oh, _Michael_," he said, shaking his head. "You should've used this the moment you entered."

Michael only responded in muffled yells and screams. Connor wasn't sure if it was from pain or if he was attempting to call for help or if it was both. He glared over his shoulder.

"_Stop your fucking screaming_," he growled. "_Nobody is going to __**help you**_."

He looked back to the gun in his hand. "Oh," he said. "There's no silencer. Is that what you're afraid of? You don't want anyone to hear the gunshot?"

He turned and walked back to Michael's side. "You certainly didn't seem to care about gunshot noises when you tried to hurt _Hank Anderson_," he snapped. He slammed his foot on Michael's ribs. He rocked his foot back and forth on his midsection, occasionally adding additional pressure. It was _fair_.

He straddled his waist again and started pistol-whipping Michael's head. He wasn't hitting _too _hard. He still wanted Michael to be awake. He wanted him to be awake for his upcoming death. He pistol-whipped him five or so times before staggering back onto his feet. He planted a foot on his chest again. He aimed the gun between Michael's eyes-

Time froze.

A sharp chill ran through his body. His eyes were wide as he stared at the body beneath him. To say this man looked like he got hit by a truck would probably be an understatement. He still looked full of fear while simultaneously looking ready to finally let go of whatever consciousness he was hanging onto.

Thirium spilled from Connor's lips. His body shook. He couldn't think. He looked at his hands. They were wet and sticky and warm with blood. Red blood.

But...this was _fair_.

This was _fair_, wasn't it?

He tried to aim the gun at Michael again but his hands shook too much to have a proper aim. More thirium spilled passed his lips. His artificial heartbeat picked up and his body started to heat up.

This was _fair…_

_**Right?**_

"H-Hank…"

He stumbled back and gripped at his head. He dropped to his knees.

"You have to tell me what to do…"

He needed Hank to tell him the right things. Because he _didn't know_. He didn't know what was _right _and what was _wrong_. Not in this situation, not at this moment. The treatment he got in the facility by this man, Michael Stevens, was wrong. He did not deserve to get tortured the way he did.

It had to be right for him to get revenge. He wanted this man to feel the same pain he did. He wanted him to realize that it was not fair. He wanted to torture Michael Stevens. Just like Michael Stevens wanted to torture him.

Hank would be ashamed, wouldn't he?

He purged some more.

He didn't want to be _bad_.

He didn't want to be _dangerous_.

He didn't want to be a _killer_.

He didn't want to be a _monster_.

**M1S?0N: /O H*M3! T& D4-**

This wasn't right.

He couldn't stay here. He had to get out. He had to get off this train before the next stop. Things would get a whole lot worse if he stayed now. Whatever happened to Michael from this point on was no longer his business. He did what he had to do. If he lived, he lived. If he didn't, then…

Connor would rather not think about it. Whatever happened, happened. He had something more important to take care of.

He got back to his feet and left the room, making sure he shut the door. He thought of trying to find something to block it, but went against it. He needed out. So, he just aimlessly ran through the train. He didn't know where he was running- he just ran and hoped for the best. He would get to some kind of exit eventually.

* * *

Connor finally managed to get to an exit after a lot of passenger complaints and stewards getting in the way. He never stopped running. He couldn't- they would ask too many questions. He found that his exit, however, was out the back of the train. There was nothing but the railroad ahead of him.

"Oh shit, oh shit…"

Jumping on top of a moving train while chasing a deviant was one thing. Jumping out the back of a moving train was something else. With his head still full of conflicting thoughts, he couldn't properly calculate how bad the damage would be if he jumped. He knew he would survive. He just didn't know how bad the landing may be. He gave himself a 50-50 chance of bad damages.

He backed up and in Hank's own words, he said, "fuck it!"

He gave himself a running jump and curled in on himself before making contact with the ground. He wasn't sure how long he rolled for until coming to a stop on his back. He stared up at the cloudy sky. His body stopped but he still felt like everything was spinning. He groaned and dragged himself off the railroad and onto safer ground in case another train was to come by.

A minor shock ran through his forearm and he felt his leg have a minor jolt, too. He wasn't surprised that his arms and legs would be the worst (not too bad, he hoped). There was an uncomfortable feeling in his midsection. He didn't doubt he had some temporary scratches and possibly some bruises. He would let his self-repairs get to work.

Until then, he felt content lying there.

**M1SS0N: GO H*M3 TO D^**

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

Writing the goodbye at the beginning was hard. Writing Connor's temporary insanity & torture scene was harder.

Originally, the torture scene was a lot more graphic. I decided to ease it up because I'm pretty sure the point is driven home that Connor is unstable after all that's happened in the past couple days.

But now it's time for him to go home.

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading.

~Kurosaki


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: One Track Mind**

"Is it alive?"

"His LED is still lit."

Something prodded Connor's shoulder and rolled him over onto his back again. He blinked and lightly shook his head to get rid of any static and blurriness in his vision. He didn't remember entering stasis. He wondered how much time passed, for it was much darker than when he was awake. It was also cloudier and he could no longer see the stars.

What he did see was the tip of a double-barrel rifle aimed under his chin. An older-looking man, perhaps in his mid-sixties, held it. Connor couldn't read his expression but he didn't seem too aggressive, despite holding such a dangerous weapon.

Next to him was a woman around her husband's (?) age. She seemed more concerned than anything else.

"'m…'live..." Connor slurred.

His body felt, as humans would say, sore. He supposed jumping out the back of a moving train would do that. He couldn't tell how much his self-repairs did while he was in stasis. He knew they wouldn't be able to get rid of the human blood on him, though. It was a shame he couldn't clean up before running into humans.

"What happened to you?" Lady asked.

"I...I don't remember," Connor said, a little clearer this time.

That wasn't true. He remembered. He remembered everything. Part of him wished he didn't, especially with what happened on the train.

"Did you get into a fight of some kind? You looked a bit scuffed up and-"

"You have human blood on your head and hands," Mister said more roughly.

"I don't remember," Connor said again. He tried to shift himself up, but stopped halfway when the gun pressed against his throat. "I only remember...being kidnapped and the people who took me hurt my lieutenant, so he couldn't help."

It wasn't a complete lie. It was the truth. It just happened to be a little bent.

"For god's sake, put the gun down, Roy," Lady scolded, shoving the gun away.

"I don't trust it, Margaret…"

"But look at him, he's injured."

Connor pulled himself onto his knees and tilted his head. "My self-repairs will handle this," he said. He wanted to raise his hands in a placating manner, but he knew they would be turned off by the blood on _them_, more so than the blood on his head.

"Where am I?"

"Don't be impatient, sonny," Roy scolded, sounding more impatient than Connor. He moved his gun away at least.

"_Sonny_?"

"We have grandkids. It's a habit of his," Margaret said.

He still didn't get it but he nodded anyway. It was better to be safe than sorry.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this," Connor said. He backed away from the gun and slowly stood. Roy stopped pointing the gun at him but he still looked suspicious. He looked over himself. "Is there a place I can wash up?"

"Our house is nearby. You can either use our shower or use the outdoor tub in our garage," Margaret replied.

"I don't want him in our house, Margie," Roy said, looking to his wife.

Connor didn't fail to notice the pronoun change.

"I don't want in either..._grandpa_," Connor said, cautiously. "I'll use your outdoor tub."

"It may take a while to fill it with water," Margaret said, raising a brow.

"I'm fine with that."

"Come with us, then," she said, pleasantly.

When she turned and started to walk, Connor hesitated. It could've been a trap, though he highly doubted that these were the kind of people to kidnap an android. Or anyone. Roy also gave him yet another suspicious look before following his wife.

Connor walked behind them. Then he stopped when a sharp jolt ran up his leg. He lowered himself. He lifted up his right pant-leg and looked his leg over. He glared when he saw a long cut up his shin. The cut wasn't deep enough to bleed but it still hindered his walking.

"Great…"

He removed his tie and wrapped it around the area. At least this way it wouldn't get more open than what it was. He carefully stood and walked after his escorts.

He took this time to look around. Trees surrounded them along with the occasional bushes. He looked behind him where he landed. There were trees on that side as well. He looked ahead. This forest seemed mostly empty. He suspected it could've been an old camp ground of some sort.

"Where are we?" Connor asked again.

"You're near the Atlanta City Park, honey."

Connor stopped again. "Wh...No, no that can't be right."

The couple stopped walking and turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

"I can't be at the Atlanta City Park, that's-"

"You're not. It's still a few miles off," Roy said.

Connor suppressed a groan. "No, grandpa," he said. He looked around him. "I mean...it's so far from Detroit…"

Margaret's brows rose. "You're from Detroit?"

"Yes…"

"What are you doing so far out from there?" Roy asked.

Connor closed his eyes. He shook his head. "It's a long story…"

"You said you were kidnapped, right?"

Connor nodded. "Yes…"

"Then maybe you should go to the city when you're done getting washed up and go to the police," Margaret suggested.

"I _am _the police, ma'am."

He just wasn't the police in this district.

"Who's dumb enough to kidnap an android that's a police officer?" Roy scoffed.

_The people who created me._

"There are a lot of cruel people out there, grandpa," Connor said evenly.

"So what are you going to do?" Margaret asked.

**MISSION: GO BACK TO DETROIT**

No, that wasn't right.

REWRITING MISSION…

MISSION REWRITTEN

**MISSION: GO BACK HOME**

Much better. Much more accurate.

"I'm going home."

* * *

It was a five minute walk to the couple's small house. It was more like a cabin than anything else. They had a car and Connor did think of asking to borrow it but he knew he wouldn't be able to return it. So, he only used their outdoor tub like he asked.

In the garage where the tub was in, there was also a mirror. He looked himself over and he looked worse than he thought. There were still some bruises that needed healing along with small scratches. His self-repairs could easily handle that, so he wondered why they hadn't yet. Then again, the simplest programs like his map didn't even work at the moment.

The blue blood he purged was still evident and dry on his face. It almost looked like it was a painted waterfall. Then there was the red, human blood. Had there been a hole in the sides of his head, it probably would've looked like he was a human who got shot.

He felt awkward using someone else's tub, no less one that was outside in the garage. At least there was no snow or freezing temperatures, like there would be in Detroit in January. After what happened in the Zen Garden on the stage, Connor decided he wasn't a fan of cold weather and winter.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do next. He wasn't sure if he should go to the closest city to get help or walk down the railroad he jumped on. He also wasn't sure if there had been any APBs sent out for him by Cyberlife. It would make things a whole lot harder if that was the case. He couldn't be caught.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't want to know where they were going to take him. He didn't want to know what their plans were for him.

When he was done washing himself, he definitely looked better. During the time he was in the tub, his self-repairs did their magic and fixed the small things. The cut on his shin didn't get much better but if he was careful, he assumed it wouldn't take too long. He also managed to clean any blood and dirt he got on his clothes, which were miraculously still in tact and not torn. He kept his tie wrapped around his shin, though.

He exited the garage and thought. He went to pull out his coin but remembered he left it with Hank. He assumed that at least one day passed already. He wondered what Hank was thinking and how much faith he had in Connor to come back.

He was going home. He didn't care what got in his way.

"Hey, grandpa," Connor said, not long after entering the small house. "Can you drive me into the city?"

"You want to go now? So late?" Roy asked, incredulously.

Connor attempted to pull out his own internal clock but it refused. So, he checked the digital clock on the coffee table. 11:00PM wasn't too bad. It was probably best to go in late at night anyway; it would draw less attention to himself.

"Yes."

Roy glanced to his wife for a moment. He nodded and stood. "Alright, sonny."

Before they left the house, Connor turned to Margaret. "Thanks for your help."

"Be careful, honey."

Connor nodded and then followed Roy outside.

He made sure to stay behind him, more so to hide his minor limp. The last thing he wanted was to be nagged. He wasn't Hank. Only he was the one allowed to nag him about unhealed injuries.

He was hesitant as he entered the old beater. He made sure to keep as much distance as possible with himself and Roy. It wasn't as if he didn't trust him, per se. But the last time he was in a stranger's car he was taken to a cruel facility. So, the closer he was to the door, the better. He could jump out faster and more efficiently. He would rather avoid it, though, thanks to his shin.

While they drove in silence, Connor searched through the glove box for a quarter or some kind of change.

"What are you doing?" Roy asked.

"I need something to help settle my systems," Connor replied. He looked to Roy and was given a strange look. "...A quarter or something that can calm me down."

"There should be some change on the seat pouch," Roy said, patting his own seat where a pouch was barely hanging on.

Connor checked his side pouch and started fumbling around. Eventually he pulled out a dime. He tried not to cringe at the idea of that instead of a quarter. It was better than nothing, he supposed. He tucked it away in his pocket.

"Thanks, grandpa."

* * *

The drive was only four minutes.

Atlanta City was much larger than Detroit. He wasn't sure what to expect from it but this was not it. If his map didn't start working, something told him he would probably get lost on his way out.

Roy was originally going to drive him to the police department, but Connor quickly told him to drop him off anywhere else. He still wasn't sure if there was any sort of search on him. He didn't want to take any changes, waltzing into a police station and being dragged back to hell.

So, Roy dropped him off at a 24 hour gas station that had some android employees running the place. He didn't know if he wanted to deal with any androids at the moment, not knowing how well-received he may be. But he couldn't be known as the Deviant Hunter _everywhere_, could he?

He stepped out of the car and turned back to Roy. "Thanks for the ride, grandpa," he said. Then he added, "and for not shooting me."

"Sure thing."

Connor turned but before he could leave, Roy called out to him again.

"Hey."

Connor tilted his head and looked over his shoulder.

"Go home safe, sonny."

Connor remained silent for a moment. For someone who aimed a dangerous weapon earlier, he had quite a change of heart. Connor nodded minutely. "I will, grandpa. Thanks."

After that, Connor stepped back and let Roy drive back home.

He looked to the gas station. Inside there were two employees chatting idly.

He fiddled with the dime uncomfortably (why couldn't it have been a quarter?) and made his way inside. He, needless to say, stuck out like a sore thumb- what with his Cyberlife jacket and LED being the best of giveaways. At least he was the only customer.

"Hello...sir," one of the clerks, an AX400, said awkwardly.

"Ma'am."

Connor put the dime away and started roaming down the short aisles. He wouldn't be able to actually buy the thirium he soon came across at the end. He would, however, be able to steal it. Hank wouldn't approve. But, Hank was not here and Connor needed the thirium. He purged too much on the train. He would also need some for the road.

He took one of the packets and looked it over. It was a small one and the store wouldn't suffer from its loss. He needed it more than the store and there were dozens more.

So, he slipped it into his jacket pocket. He decided to roam around the rest of the small store. He had a lot of time to spare before his treck in the early morning.

"Do you need help, sir?" AX400 asked, walking up next to his side.

"Why?" Connor asked, forcing a smile.

He didn't exactly bother being stealthy when he took the thirium. He was prepared to be called out for it.

"You're limping."

Oh.

He looked down at his leg. "I didn't notice," he said. He shrugged. "I guess I got used to it. I'm fine."

He would be better when his self-repair program started functioning at full capacity.

"Alright…" she said. "...And there are no other issues?"

"No."

AX400 didn't seem convinced and Connor had an idea as to why.

Why would someone steal thirium if they were fine? They were smarter than he gave them credit for.

ST300 from the counter called, "just cough it up, sir."

Connor strolled passed AX400, who followed behind him, to the counter. He pulled out the dime and placed it on the counter. "That's all I have and all I can give you."

"Listen, if you need help of some kind, there are other ways to go about it," AX400 said, kindly. "You don't need to steal. Go to the police."

_I __**am **__the police_.

"I have no time to deal with the police," Connor said. He didn't take out the thirium packet. "Do you want the truth?"

"Yes," ST300 said. AX400 went to her side.

"I've been through hell the past couple days and I barely escaped earlier tonight," he said. "All I want is to go home and all I have is this little dime, a limp, and now a stolen packet of thirium..._Please_, you have to help me."

The two employees shared a look. AX400 reached over and took the dime. "...Alright."

Connor nodded. "Thank you."

ST300 gave him a sympathetic look. "You really should go to the police, if you're in so much trouble."

"I already said I have no time for it," he said, impatiently. "I can handle this on my own."

He was still unsure if there were any APBs out on him. Cyberlife was determined to keep him but he wasn't sure if they were _that _determined. Perhaps if Michael died they may be. He didn't want to know. It still bothered him. Everything bothered him.

He started to exit the store when AX400 called to him again. He just wanted to leave; find somewhere to stay while he waited for daylight.

"Where are you going?"

_Oh, for god's sake._

He already said where he was going.

"Home."

Home to Hank.

The only place that mattered.

The only place he belonged.

The only place he felt truly comfortable.

"_No one_ and _nothing_ is going to keep me from doing that."

The only place he was loved.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

A shorter more easy-going chapter this time 'round. I figured Connor deserved a break after all that's happened.

Also, okay, if there are any inaccuracies regarding Atlanta City, forgive me. I did as much research as possible but it was still hard to get a lot of concrete information. I'm just going to use the excuse that it's 2039 and shit changes in that amount of time.

Also, this might sound bad but I really just wanted to get this chapter out already, so I apologize if there happens to be any grammar errors. Like the previous chapters I re-read this like five times but I still might've missed something. Still, I don't think this one is my best work but it _is_ necessary. The next chapters will be better. Trust me, I got a lot of shit planned. (Poor Connor.)

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

~Kurosaki


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Friend or Foe**

Connor stuck with alleys and quieter streets when morning came around. He already drank some of his thirium and felt refreshed for the trip. Of course, his shin was still damaged and he cursed at his self-repair program for not getting its act together.

He wasn't taking any chances asking someone, android or not, for help in fixing it. His tie was wrapped around it and that would still have to suffice.

At the very least, his map program started up again. It was a bit glitchy but it was better than nothing. He felt a small sense of dread when he discovered that Detroit was over one thousand miles away from where he was currently at. He expected he would be quite far from the city, but he didn't expect it would be that far.

From his calculation, if nothing got in the way, it would take around thirteen or so days on foot. Connor, however, was also walking with a limp and he was not lucky. He didn't get his hopes up that it would take the thirteen days he calculated.

His first stop would be Queen City. That wasn't too far. An hour or so walk, maybe a little longer. He thought of hijacking a taxi. It would get him more heat than he already had, though. Then he thought of taking a bus but there were none to Queen City. He wasn't going to hitch a ride.

Why did this have to be so complicated?

Because of how large the city was, it took him a little while to find the actual highway. He stayed out of sight and stuck close to the forestry. Had the circumstances been different, he would have actually taken the time to enjoy Atlanta City. He would suggest to Hank to visit there sometime.

He had tried calling Hank but his messaging refused to cooperate. His email and texts also refused. All he had now was just to hang on to the hope that Hank knew he was coming back.

* * *

What was supposed to be an hour walk turned out to be two hours and a half.

Now and then Connor would have to stop and readjust his tie. Sometimes he would think back to when Hank said duct tape could fix everything. Connor doubted it highly but in his current situation, he wouldn't mind trying. Tape probably wouldn't slip off as frequently. All he wanted was this to get fixed before anything made it worse.

Somewhere along the way, his tie didn't just slip off but it slipped off without his notice. He assumed it might've somehow snagged on some fallen branches, or caught on one of the bushes he stumbled over. By the time he checked his shin, his tie was long gone and he wasn't backtracking.

Annoying distractions like that were the reason why he left early in the morning.

It was 10:15AM when he passed Queen City's welcome sign. Already he could tell it was much different than Detroit and definitely different than Atlanta City. From what he could read on his map, Queen City was much smaller than Atlanta and Detroit.

_It should be renamed to Queen __**Town**__…_

Connor went out of his way to stay near quieter streets and close to alleyways in case of emergencies. He got the odd look now and then but nobody seemed in a hurry to grab him and turn him in. For the most part, they actually seemed to mind their own business. Maybe a smaller town was better, after all. He wouldn't get lost and people would leave him alone.

That was a bit too optimistic, though.

While he was limping his way through the city, he did some accidental eavesdropping.

"Hey, did you see the news this morning?"

"I saw it last night. Nothing changed in that amount of time, did it?"

Connor picked up his pace.

"It's not that surprising in the state he was in."

"So, is he okay?"

"They said-"

Connor burst into a run.

He had been doing his best to avoid anything related to news. He didn't want to know the result of his actions. Not if they were bad. He knew there was a higher probability of them being bad than good. He didn't want to know.

He came to a slower walk after running for five minutes. It pestered his leg to run the way he did. The running also drew more attention to himself. It probably didn't help that he had shoved some people out of the way. It wasn't his fault the street he ran into was busy. It was their fault for not moving.

The further he got in the city, the more he felt like he was on the countryside. He wasn't sure how he felt about Texas. All he liked from what he experienced so far was the warmer weather. He didn't know it was possible for warm weather in January.

He supposed the one good thing about this whole fiasco was that he would probably get more life experience. He would see new things, new places…

But it didn't really mean anything without Hank.

He neared what he thought was the city center. He had seen a sign that mentioned something like a farmer's market taking place. Some people had already begun to set up shop while others were already done. The main street was clear of cars, so people could walk around the market safely.

It was almost enlightening to see many smiling faces and watching humans and the occasional android mix well together. He wondered if they knew about the terrible things the world had to offer.

He came to a stop when he neared a larger set up.

ANDROID SUPPLIES HERE

HELP YOURSELVES! :)

He stepped forward and looked closer. There was a smaller sign sitting next to a table. There was a large, clear pitcher of thirium and multiple empty glasses waiting to be filled.

NEED HELP? I'M AVAILABLE ANY TIME! :)

He frowned. He wondered how genuine this was.

A man stood from his nearby armchair and stepped forward. He had a welcoming smile. He gestured to the thirium.

"It's like the sign says," he said. "Help yourself."

Connor held his hands behind his back and stood straight. He looked at the thirium before glancing back to Mister. He tilted his head.

Mister gave him a curious look. After a moment he nodded. His smile didn't go away. "I think I get it."

Mister moved over to the table and poured a glass of thirium. He held it out and bowed. "_Your Highness_."

Connor hesitantly stepped forward. He reached over and took the glass. "...Thank you."

He drank the thirium contently. It felt cool and refreshing sliding down his throat.

"So, _that's _it. You're used to being treated, huh?"

Connor finished the glass and handed it back to Mister. "Why 'Your Highness'?"

Mister smiled and took the glass. He put it down. "You're beautiful and seem very regal," he said. "You should be treated like it."

"_Beautiful…_?"

His LED flickered yellow for a moment.

The last person who called him beautiful, or at least implied he was, touched him. A lot. He had been touched a lot ever since then.

He shook his head and stepped back. Mister looked at his leg before meeting his eyes again.

"What's wrong-"

"You can't do that," Connor said. "I wasn't built for that. My body isn't for sale."

Mister frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You can't touch me."

"I wasn't going to…" Mister said, cautiously.

"...Right…" Connor didn't believe that. He stepped back again. "I, uh...I need to go home now."

He probably shouldn't have taken the thirium. It was laced. It had to be. He wasn't sticking around to be abused once he was down and out.

"Alright...well, if you ever need help, Your Highness, you can come to me," Mister said, smiling again. "I've repaired hundreds of androids around the country. I can fix you too, if anything happens."

"Thanks…"

He still didn't believe him.

He needed to find a place to take it easy before anything happened. Even if Mister didn't try anything, that didn't mean some other human wouldn't. It was probably best to get out of sight for the moment anyway, after the attention he brought on himself a few minutes prior.

* * *

Connor was, needless to say, surprised when half an hour passed and he wasn't out. He actually remained refreshed. His systems weren't stuttering, he wasn't glitching out in any way...Maybe there was a chance he jumped to conclusions. He couldn't be too easy-going, though. Not when it came to humans.

He was lucky with Roy and Margaret. There wouldn't be people like them everywhere.

He wandered around the city and found himself an abandoned building. He assumed it was, anyway. The doorway was open and although the inside was clean and looked like a good base for people to stay, he saw no signs of life. It was the perfect place to rest.

He sat on one of the stools and lifted his pant-leg. The cut looked a little wider now. He was amazed it wasn't bleeding yet. Maybe that was all his self-repairs could manage. He couldn't think of another reason. Unless it really wasn't that deep, despite being able to see some of the inside.

He removed his belt and started to wrap it around the cut-

"Hey! What the hell are _you _doing here?!"

A hand gripped the back of his jacket and pulled him up. He twisted himself around and moved out of the way from an oncoming punch from a WR600. He stepped back when another android, an AP700, came into view.

It probably would've been good to check all the rooms in the building before staying. His head was all over the place.

"Stop," Connor said. He raised his hands in a placating manner. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"All you know how to do is hurt people!" WR600 shouted.

That explained that. They were familiar with his past. He was just the Deviant Hunter to them. This was a title he wouldn't be able to let go of. Not if androids all over the country were familiar with it.

He side-stepped when AP700 tried to throw the stool at him.

"Stop-"

He was pulled forward by WR600 and when he was close enough, although he didn't want to really hurt him, he slammed his forehead against his. WR600 stumbled back and let go.

AP700 jumped on his back and wrapped his arms around his neck. He also wrapped his legs around his waist, determined to stay on.

"Hold it still!"

It.

"Get off-!"

Connor backed up and rammed his back against the wall to deter AP700. It also helped get some good distance from the other furious WR600. AP700 gripped at the sides of Connor's head and attempted to twist.

Connor spun around and purposefully collapsed to the floor. AP700's hands slipped off his head. AP700 still refused to let go as a whole but at least his head was free.

WR600 took Connor's current position to his advantage and lifted him again. His knee rammed into his midsection, directly on his Thirium Pump. He held back his thirium and tried to keep himself upright (damn his shin).

Thankfully, AP700 finally jumped off him but he kept his hands on his arms. He kicked the back of his knee and Connor dropped on his knees. AP700 slammed his foot on his bad leg. But Connor could only think of the hands on him.

They were all over him. Everywhere- touching him, roaming all over. (Were they?)

A hand landed on top of his head.

_Hank?_

No. Hank wasn't here.

His head was lifted up and he swore he was supposed to be looking at an android. Instead, Michael Stevens was there. (Was he?) Michael- no. WR600. It was WR600. That's right. He was in Queen City. WR600 was saying something but all Connor could hear was loud buzzing.

He swallowed back more thirium when his Thirium Pump was hit again. He almost didn't care about that. He just wanted all the hands to go away. He wanted them off- they had to get off.

He jerked his head away when he barely managed to process another oncoming punch. His eyes scanned all over the room. There had to be something. Preferably something sharp and hard. Part of him wished he took Michael's gun with him. Then he realized there was a possibility of going insane again.

His eyes eventually found what looked to be a crowbar hidden underneath a table. That would have to do.

Connor jerked more aggressively this time. "FUCKING GET OFF OF ME!"

His voice was hoarse. It felt like something was lodged in his throat. This was why he was grateful androids didn't need to breathe. He would most certainly be struggling if he was a human.

"Stop moving!"

"NO-!"

_Just get off, get off, __**get off**__, __**GET OFF!**_

He managed to get his arms free but he was only rewarded with AP700's arms wrapping around his waist. The hands wouldn't go away. He needed to get rid of them.

"LET GO! GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!"

He froze when he heard the familiar clanking of chains hitting against each other. They dragged across the floor. Had there always been chains in here? His arms were twisted behind his back again (when did that happen?).

"_Dont-_"

Metal clamps held his arms together.

No. This wasn't right. This couldn't be happening again.

"I've been waiting for this moment for too long."

Connor's LED burned red.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Connor blinked rapidly, much too fast for a human to see.

At the entrance stood an angry PL600, similar to Simon, though he dyed his hair and surprisingly enough, still had his LED. It was yellow.

Connor ignored him for a moment and looked around. He was still in the building in Queen City. He tried jerking his arms. They were behind his back but they were not chained. There were no chains at all. It was just the AP700 holding him back and WR600 in front of him.

He wasn't in the facility. He wasn't in chains. Michael Stevens wasn't around.

Everything was fine.

He was fine.

He was fine…

"What the hell is going on here?" PL600 asked, getting further in the building.

"This thing broke in," AP700 said. He shook Connor lightly. "We're just teaching it a lesson."

That wasn't the reason.

"Androids come and go in here all the time," PL600 said, narrowing his eyes. "You've never jumped them before."

"They weren't a sick monster like this," WR600 said, glaring at Connor before looking back to his boss.

Monster.

"You do know that this is the one, right?" AP700 asked.

"I know who he _was_," PL600 said. He shook his head. "I also know he's not the Deviant Hunter anymore. If he was, don't you think he would've destroyed you by now?"

"Excuse us for not giving it the chance," AP700 snapped.

PL600 sighed dramatically. "Let him go," he said. "He is a guest here. And you will treat him like one."

"Oh, come on!" WR600 complained. "You want to treat this thing _nice_?"

"I do," PL600 said, sounding more and more frustrated. "Let him go. _Now_."

"But…"

"That's not a _request_."

There was a long moment of silence. Then, AP700 groaned. "...Fine."

He lifted Connor and shoved him away. Connor subconsciously made his way over to PL600's side. His LED shifted to yellow for a moment before settling on blue. Things were much better with all the hands off him.

"I'm so sorry about this...Connor?" PL600 said, looking at him now. His LED was blue. "That's your real name, right?"

Connor nodded. "Yes."

"Please…" WR600 mumbled, sarcastically.

PL600 tossed him a look. "They aren't usually like this. At all."

"I understand," Connor said, unintentionally sounding more dejected than he meant.

He didn't want to understand. But he did.

"Is there anything you need, Connor?" PL600 asked, curiously.

"I just needed a place to rest," he replied. He glanced to the other two androids. "I didn't know anyone else was here."

"People are allowed to come and go as they please," PL600 said with a smile. "These two know that."

AP700 rolled his eyes.

"Should've bashed it's head in…"

"Or just tear it's Thirium Pump out right away…"

"You two will be silent," PL600 snapped.

"Listen, I'll just leave. I didn't mean for this-"

"No, Connor. You're allowed to stay," PL600 insisted. "For as long as you need."

_I don't feel comfortable anymore. Thanks._

"Is there anything specific you need?"

"I, uh...I could use some thirium."

It would be best to have some before he left Queen City and to have some more for the road. He should've been more careful with the thirium he had gotten last night, but the temptation to drink it was a bit strong. He also didn't plan on going to Mister again, despite what he offered.

"Alright," PL600 said. He looked to his men. "Go and get him that thirium."

"What?!" AP700 shouted. "You have got to be kidding me! First standing up for it and then giving it thirium?"

"Any more complaints from you and you won't be welcome here anymore," PL600 said, furrowing his brows. "Get him that thirium."

WR600 groaned. "You're leaving the second you get it."

"I will."

There was no way he was staying after that confrontation. Not after that...moment.

WR600 and AP700 grumbled as they made their way to the door they had originally come out from. Connor didn't fail to notice PL600's LED blink yellow twice before going to a calm blue.

"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to cause this...mess," Connor said again.

PL600 shook his head. "It isn't your fault, Connor."

Connor sighed. He walked- _limped _over to where his belt was left. He lowered himself and went back to what he was doing before the androids showed up.

"Oh god. Did they do that?" PL600 asked, gaping at the cut.

"No," Connor said, shrugging. "It was an accident. My self-repairs can handle it."

_And how many times have I been trying to convince myself of that?_

"If you're sure…"

"I am."

Connor stood and straightened his jacket. He missed his tie. He wanted to adjust it. The normal way. He also wanted his coin. Not some dime, not a stranger's quarter. His. He wanted _his _coin.

Soon, the androids, who were still grumbling, came back from the back room. They stopped halfway to Connor, as if getting too close would get them into trouble. Ridiculous, considering what they did earlier.

"Do we _have _to? After what this thing did…"

"Give him the thirium and then you'll get what you want- him leaving," PL600 said. He sounded so impatient that it almost put _Connor's _impatience to shame.

WR600 sighed deeply and begrudgingly stepped forward.

Connor held his hand out.

He handed him the thirium packet. "Now go!"

"Thanks," Connor said, doing his best to hide his sarcasm.

PL600 shook his head again and glared at his men. "The three of us will need to have a talk," he said. He smiled at Connor. "Go home now, Connor."

Connor said nothing as he left the building.

* * *

This time around, Connor decided he would head out later that night instead of leaving in the early morning. He couldn't waste more time than he already had. He also didn't want to stay in a city overnight where he knew there were some people who hated him. It wasn't as if PL600 could be there to give him a hand all the time. He didn't want that either. He just wanted to be alone.

Rather, he wanted to continue his way back home with no interruptions.

It was 9:30PM when Connor headed out. The sun had already set and clouds rolled in, covering up whatever light there was left. On his way out, he saw some people putting their shops down. They still looked easy-going and happy. They really didn't know how terrible the world was.

"Your Highness?"

Connor suppressed a groan. He turned and saw Mister walking down the street to him. "What?"

"What are you still doing here? I thought you said you were going home," Mister said curiously.

"...I don't remember mentioning I don't live here in this city…"

"You didn't," Mister said. He put a hand on his hip. "But I've been here for a long time now and this is the first time I've seen you."

Oh.

"Right…" Connor said, awkwardly. "Well, I'm on my way out now. I just needed to rest."

Mister tilted his head. "Do you need anything for the road? I still have lots of thirium."

Connor shook his head. "I got some thirium earlier."

He got it in a rather terrible way but he still got it. It tasted fine when he drank it, too. It was a little colder than the thirium he got from Mister, but Mister's had been sitting in the open. Either way, he was fine.

"I'll be fine."

"Okay, good," Mister said. He still hadn't lost his smile. "If you need me, I'll be on Second Street, not too far from Queen City Mini Storage."

"Alright."

He wouldn't need it but he really needed to get going.

"Goodbye, Your Highness," Mister said as Connor started walking away. "Have a safe trip home!"

Connor decided to be nice and give a short wave.

* * *

Connor was thirty minutes outside of the 'Thank you for visiting Queen City' sign when his body started to heat up. It wasn't too bad at first, but as the seconds went on, it became uncomfortable. He had to unbutton his shirt and roll up his sleeves. The cool breeze felt nice against his skin.

Five minutes later, Connor's artificial heart stuttered for a moment.

He kept going.

Two minutes after that, Connor had to take deep breaths to help cool his systems. Warm- no, _hot _air left his mouth. It was so hot it almost reminded Connor of a furnace. Having hot waves of air leave his mouth felt strange.

He kept going.

One minute after that, Connor had to stop and lean against a nearby tree and take deeper and longer breaths.

He only managed to walk a couple seconds before it popped up.

**WARNING: CONTAMINATED THIRIUM DETECTED**

_What…?_

**WARNING: OVERHEATING**

**WARNING: OVERHEATING WILL RESULT IN SHUTDOWN**

_Huh…?_

**WARNING: CONTAMINATED BLOODSTREAM DETECTED**

**SEEK ASSISSSSSSS-**

**ERROR DETECTED**

**ERROR DETECTED**

**WARNING: CONTAMINATED BLOODSTREAM DETECTED**

He should've-

**WARNING**

**WARNING**

**WARNING**

-known better.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

Now this is a chapter I'm proud of. Much, much better than the previous one.

Also, I _did_ do my research regarding how many miles away Connor is from Detroit and how long it would take for him to get back. I did _that_. I just didn't do a whole lot of research on the actual cities he drops by. Everything I saw from Queen City images from the help of Google map and images, it really does look like a countryside farm town-like place to me. So, I kind of treated it like one.

Oh yeah and THAT is an interesting word choice. THAT was Connor's mistake.

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

~Kurosaki


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Shutdown**

Connor stood still, or as still as he could be, and tried to figure out what to do. He dismissed the error messages. He got the idea. He was suffering from poisoning. He didn't need a constant reminder.

What he needed was a way to fix this. He wasn't sure if he should go back to the city or keep going to the next one. His map, under these circumstances, refused to work and so he couldn't tell how far the next city was. He couldn't calculate anything. His thoughts were jumbled.

He was tempted to take his jacket and shirt off to welcome more cool air. He felt a strong discomfort of the idea walking around shirtless. Especially after what happened earlier and if he were to get jumped again. So, he just kept his shirt unbuttoned. His body shook. He gripped at his head. His skin burned.

He turned back around and started for Queen City. His steps were slow and sluggish. He had a hard time keeping upright. His breaths were uneven and it felt like they were getting hotter.

**WARNI-**

_Go away…_

His systems stuttered strangely. Sometimes it was aggressive, sometimes it was almost gentle. He didn't know how to describe it. He already decided he hated the feeling, though. He hated poison.

He rolled his sleeves up further, as high as he could get them. He wanted the breeze to pick up.

_ "You can always come to me, Your Highness. I've repaired hundreds of androids."_

"O-okay...okay…"

He found it hard to speak. Sticky thirium made itself comfortable inside his throat while trying to simultaneously make its way out. Connor did his best to keep his mouth shut. It would burn if he purged now.

He kept going.

_Where was it again? Second-_

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:15:09**

Connor halted. He almost fell over.

_No...No, no, no…_

No, he couldn't die yet. He had to get home. He had to see Hank, even if it was only once. He needed to see him. He wanted to be in his arms again.

This couldn't be happening.

He tried to pick up his pace, hot body and damaged shin be damned. He stumbled quite a bit but he managed to stay standing.

He tried to keep in mind that fifteen minutes was a decent amount of time. He would be back in the city and hopefully close enough to where Second Street was at. His map didn't work, but he would be able to read street signs. He just needed to focus on that, needed to focus on direction and the hope that the fifteen minutes wouldn't go by too fast.

Everything seemed so much darker than Connor remembered when he managed to get back into the city. The streetlights were on and yet they were so dim. It was as if the lighting in his vision had been lowered and everything was dull.

His body continued to burn and it got worse the more he trudged on. He could barely manage to lift his feet from the ground. His limp wasn't helping. He kept pushing back the timer. Just the idea of shutting down before getting back home terrified him.

He promised.

Hank was waiting.

He did his best to hold it back, but he couldn't help but purge. The thirium felt more so like acid as it streamed passed his lips. It stung and it felt sticky. He wiped the burning thirium away with the back of his hand, unintentionally smearing it.

He looked at it. It was a strange colour. It almost looked lavender mixed with blue mixed with some black. It made him want to purge again just out of disgust.

**SHUTDOWN I-**

He groaned loudly.

He wasn't sure if there was a way to slow down the timer. If anything, if he kept forcing himself to go at a faster pace, it would probably go down faster. He refused to stop. There was no choice but to keep going.

Connor managed to make it a few more steps before he collapsed. His systems stuttered at the abrupt impact. He clenched his teeth to prevent another purge. He tried to stand but he could only manage to get onto his hands and knees. He supposed it was better than nothing.

He crawled.

His movements were slow as he crawled. His systems wouldn't stop stuttering. Static covered the corner of his vision.

"It's funny how the mighty have fallen, isn't it, Hunter?"

A heavy boot kicked his side, causing him to collapse onto his front again. He cleared his throat and took deep breaths. He had to try and keep himself steady.

"Don't say you didn't ask for it."

Connor barely managed to lift himself. He glared up the best he could. "PL…"

He could make out a smile. PL600's LED was blue. "Guess you didn't drink all the thirium if you can still crawl like this."

Connor ignored him. He looked ahead of him and went back to crawling. He couldn't waste time like this.

"You're not so scary and tough now, are you, Hunter?"

PL600 kicked him again, harder.

Hunter, Hunter, Hunter…

Connor couldn't bring himself to lift up properly on his hands and knees. He had to drag himself. Gravel lightly scraped against his bare skin, making him even more uncomfortable.

"Should've stayed outside the city to die."

The static in his vision got worse, as did the temptation to purge. Connor decided this felt more 'painful' than being tased. He could recover from that. Unless he got to Mister, he wouldn't be able to recover. He would die and go to nothing. Because that's what would be there after his death. Nothing.

PL600 pinned him to the ground, his foot stomping on his back. "So, how does it feel? How does it feel being useless?"

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:07:56**

He needed to get out of here.

"P...please," Connor barely managed to whisper. "Let me go. You got your revenge…"

If begging meant getting to Mister in time, so be it.

"The famous Deviant Hunter is begging?" PL600 said, a bit too dramatically. "Never thought I'd see that day."

"Have some empathy..." Connor muttered. Raising his voice was difficult. "Leave me alone to die in misery…"

PL600 got off his back. Connor refused to look up. He didn't want to see the mocking eyes PL600 no doubt had. Not to mention, even if he did, there was a chance he wouldn't even be able to see properly, not with how heavy the static began to get.

"I wish I could say I was sorry for getting your hopes up about going home," PL600 scoffed. He nudged him with his foot. "But you threw out so many androids. Now it's your turn."

"Mm...I understand…"

He just wanted PL600 to go away so he could crawl to Mister.

PL600 backed up. He turned and walked away as if nothing happened.

Connor took a deep, hot breath, and went back to crawling.

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:07:00**

* * *

He couldn't crawl anymore no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't even _drag_.

His body convulsed profusely. He did try to drag himself, but his hands barely scraped the ground, as did his feet. He could not push himself forward. He was only scraping his skin. His vision was almost completely covered with static. He hyperventilated aggressively. He purged. The liquid continued to burn his skin. His insides were on fire.

But he was near Mister.

He managed to see his set up close by. It was still a decent length away but he could tell it was Mister's.

"Help…"

It was hard to raise his voice. It did not sound normal.

"Mister, I need help…"

Mister couldn't hear him. Connor tried to drag himself but again, he could not move. His body only convulsed.

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:04:09**

It was a miracle he still had time but the timer was going down much faster now. The poison continued to spread. His body continued to burn. He whimpered and groaned and his panic and terror grew.

"Help…_please_…"

Mister still couldn't hear him.

Connor closed his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath. With all his strength, he screamed as loud as he could manage.

"_HELP_!"

Screaming like that wore him out. He went back to hyperventilating.

There was a long moment of silence.

"Your Highness?"

Connor decided that right now, that was the most beautiful thing he heard all day.

His footsteps picked up. "Your Highness?!"

Mister dropped to his knees in front of him, his eyes roaming all over his shaking body. "Your Highness, what is this- what happened?"

"P-poisoned," Connor managed. The less words the better. "Help…"

Mister nodded. "I've dealt with tainted thirium before." He grabbed Connor's arm and hissed, pulling away. He waved his hand. Then, he took his arm again. "I have to lift you up. One, two...three!"

Connor was lifted so abruptly he was surprised he didn't collapse right away. Mister helped guide him to his stand.

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:03:00**

"Can't die…" he mumbled. "Promised...home…"

"It'll be okay, Your Highness. I'll fix you."

Mister got back to his stand and gently laid Connor back on the ground on top of a blanket Mister had out. He then went to his table and started getting supplies together.

"H...Han…k...Hank..."

The constant thought of dying without being with Hank filled him with dread. His body convulsed more aggressively.

"Go into stasis, Your Highness," Mister said, gently. He turned back to him. He had some tools in his hands. "It'll make my job easier. Just...think of home. Go to sleep and think of home."

And Connor did.

He thought of home.

He entered stasis.

His LED was a dull red.

* * *

Connor was back in winter wonderland.

After being in Texas for what felt like forever, it was quite strange to see the snow again. It wasn't a blizzard, like that night in the Zen Garden. It fell gently from the sky. It was almost beautiful. If he liked snow and winter. But he did not.

However, this snow meant Detroit. He had been working so hard to get back. He didn't care if he went back to snow. As long as he was back, that's what mattered.

He stopped in front of Hank Anderson's house. After entering the city, it took him longer than he wanted to get to the house. But he was still there. He almost felt overwhelmed to see the building again. It didn't change. Not from the outside. Maybe it was different on the inside. What was most important was that the house was still there. Hank's car was also there.

The time was 10:30AM.

Hank was about to go to work. He would walk outside and Connor would be there, only a few feet away from his porch. He expected a smile. It would be the first smile Connor had seen from him in so long.

It would be beautiful.

Connor took only one step forward, standing on the path to the porch.

Hank Anderson walked out of the door shortly after. He was mumbling random things. After he locked the door and turned, he froze. Connor knew it wasn't from the cold.

Hank's mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. It was hard for Connor to stay still as he waited for Hank.

"Connor?"

Connor nodded. He couldn't suppress a smile anymore. He continued to manage to remain still, though, but just barely.

Hank was only an arms length away now.

Connor couldn't wait anymore.

Neither could Hank, it seemed, for they both ran into each other and wrapped their arms around each other.

"I made it home, Hank."

Connor buried his face in Hank's shoulder and took in all his warmth. He held him tighter when Hank pulled him closer, if that was even possible. His body relaxed further when Hank rubbed his back. His touch was so gentle.

"I've been waiting."

Connor hummed. He concentrated on Hank's heartbeat. It was, aside from Hank's voice, the most beautiful noise he heard.

Hank pulled back but he kept his hands on Connor's shoulders. Connor felt a small pang of guilt when he saw Hank's tear-filled eyes. Connor suspected he may have been tearing up as well, for Hank gently thumbed one of his eyes.

Even if there were tears, Hank was smiling. It was a truly beautiful smile.

Connor wanted to be held again. He tried to lean in, but Hank held him back. Connor frowned.

"Wh-what?"

_Keep holding me. I've...__**we've**__ waited so long._

Hank shook his head. "You know you're not back, though."

Connor immediately shook his head. His LED flickered yellow. "No...No. I'm back."

Hank gently ruffled his hair, a gesture Connor missed. "No. Not yet, son."

Connor was pulled back. He looked at his wrists. Chains were wrapped around them. "No, please no. Hank, do something!"

_Don't let them take me away._

"Hank…"

Hank backed away and he rubbed his eyes. "I'll still be here waiting, Connor," he said. His voice shook. "I'll be here at home or at the station. I'll always be waiting."

"Please no…"

Connor tried reaching out but he kept getting jerked away. Hank started to disappear. Everything around him disappeared.

"Hank…Hank!"

* * *

"_HANK_!"

Connor's eyes snapped open and his body jerked. He stared up at the cloudy sky. He sighed and his body settled. He lowered and softened his eyes. Then, he realized his vision was clear. His body was also cool. The fire was gone.

"Your Highness?"

Connor looked to his side. Mister sat on an armchair across from him. His brows were raised. "Are you okay?"

Connor nodded. "Much better now."

His voice was clearer and at a normal volume.

"Do you remember what happened?" Mister asked, tilting his head.

"I remember," he said. He looked back up at the sky. "I was poisoned and...I came to you for help."

"You barely made it in time, too," Mister said. He smiled. "I'm so glad I managed to help. I was almost scared for a moment."

"Even though you seemed so confident," Connor said. "I guess everyone gets scared, though."

"It's been a long time since I've seen an android have a seizure," he said. "Well...something that looks like a seizure."

Connor hummed.

He felt refreshed but he also felt like entering stasis as well. He wondered if that would be a normal reaction if he was a human. Humans tended to be exhausted after such an experience, even when they did get better. But he was not human- not in the true sense of the word.

He decided not to go into stasis. He didn't want a cruel dream again. It wasn't fair. He truly did feel like he was home. It felt so real. It wasn't fair that it was only a dream.

"If you don't mind me asking, Your Highness...who is Hank?"

Connor closed his eyes. "Hank...he is my lieutenant...my best friend…"

_And something else but I have to be careful with that word for now._

"He is my drive."

The only thing that kept him going. There was no point in being alive without Hank.

"That's who you're going home to, then?"

"Yes."

Mister smiled gently. "Then...I really am glad I saved you."

"Hm?"

"So that you can go home to him. I think it's very sweet and brave of you."

Connor huffed. "I suppose so. I didn't look at it like that."

"However…"

Connor sighed. "What?"

"You'll need to stay here for at least one more day to rest. You're in the safe zone but it's best to wait until you're completely on your feet."

"Nooo..." Connor whined.

He paused. If he was a human, he would probably be blushing. He sounded too much like a petulant child.

"_Nooo_," Mister mocked, smirking.

Connor grumbled.

"Seriously, though, Your Highness," Mister said, getting serious again. "Give yourself a day before you get going."

"Mister…"

He raised a hand. "I understand, Your Highness. But it'll take twice as long if you go now. You need to settle."

Connor huffed. "You're the android repair expert here...I guess I'll do it."

There was something he needed to take care of before he left anyway.

"No leaving the city until tomorrow night."

"I can do some...exercises, right?"

"As long as you don't get out of hand."

"I won't."

He would make sure to keep calm. He was always calm as the Deviant Hunter.

The androids wanted it.

They would get it.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

That dream sequence was sad to write. :')

Connor needs a real hug from Hank.

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

~Kurosaki


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: The Second Break**

To return the favour, Connor helped Mister set up his stand at the city center. There weren't as many stands this time and wasn't nearly as busy. Sundays seemed to be much quieter than other days. He was actually glad it was quieter. It would give him time to relax before going on his afternoon endeavour.

"I couldn't help but notice your leg, Your Highness," Mister said, in the middle of pouring some thirium in the pitcher.

"My self-repair program is refusing to work with me," Connor said, shrugging. "But it's alright."

It, as a matter of fact, was not alright. Mister had already helped him, though, and he had no intention of asking for more help. It wouldn't be fair. He also wouldn't be able to stick around to pay him back. He didn't plan on coming back to Queen City once he left, so he didn't want to owe anyone any favours.

"Can I look at it?"

"I'd rather you not," Connor said, stubbornly. He put out Mister's sign.

"Is it that you don't trust me or are you too proud to ask for help?"

Connor thought for a moment. "I trust you," he said. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have come to you last night."

"But you did."

"But I did."

"So, it's a pride thing, then," Mister said, smirking.

"I suppose so."

He always did consider himself a proud person. It was the only explanation as to why he felt embarrassed at things that probably weren't truly embarrassing. That's what he thought anyway. He could always be wrong.

This was why he needed Hank. He needed Hank to help him with his emotions.

"How are you handling it?" Mister asked.

"I have my belt wrapped around the cut."

"How deep is it?"

"_Mister_."

"I'm someone who repairs androids, can you blame me for being curious?"

"I'm actually kind of surprised that _that's _what you're curious about," Connor said. He looked at Mister. "I thought you would constantly ask me who poisoned me."

"I was waiting to ask that actually," Mister said. He frowned. "Who would poison you, Your Highness?"

Connor sighed. He put down some glasses. It wasn't something Mister would be able to understand. No human would be able to understand it.

"Everyone hates me," Connor said. Then he added, "every _android_."

Perhaps not _every _android. If that was the case, the two at the gas station in Atlanta City wouldn't have helped. There were still many hundreds- _thousands _of androids who hated him.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's true," Connor said. He turned to face Mister. "I did something really bad. And...they can't get over it. I guess I can't either. Not if they're doing this to me."

These three androids would, unfortunately, realize that they made a mistake and get what they asked for. He could already feel it bubbling inside him. It disgusted him. He didn't want this.

This was not his fault, though.

Be careful what you ask for, as they say.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Mister said. Connor could hear the confusion in his voice.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "It's okay."

It wasn't. It would never be. It was not his fault. He would only be giving them what they asked for. To blame him would be cruel. _He _was not cruel. He was doing what _they _wanted.

"Anyway, you said I can do some exercises? To test my systems?" Connor asked, tilting his head.

"You can," he said. "As long as you don't push yourself."

"Oh, I won't. I really won't."

He was much more careful as his previous self.

He didn't want to be his previous self. Not really.

It's what _they_ wanted.

* * *

01:05:00PM

The newly sharpened crowbar lightly tapped against the wooden table. The sound of it thudding was the only thing that filled the small room. There was no light in the room with the exception of a bright, calm blue LED.

Footsteps neared. Voices chattered.

The door opened smoothly. The voices that were once casual stopped, as did their movements.

It shifted it's eyes to the door. It scanned the three androids that entered.

PL600 ANDROID

STATUS:** DEVIANT**

WR600 ANDROID

STATUS: **DEVIANT**

AP700 ANDROID

STATUS: **DEVIANT**

PL600's eyes were wide. It's LED was stuck on red. It's body shook. It tried to compose itself, attempting to smile.

"Connor?" it said. It's voice shook. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

AP700 and WR600 glanced at each other nervously. Had they been humans, they would've paled considerably by now and would've passed out. It was miraculous they could even stand with how terribly they shook.

It was just like Deviants to be full of fear. It was their number one emotion.

"Do you need something, Connor?" PL600 asked.

"I am not Connor."

It's voice was cold. Mechanical. Dead.

It sat straighter and smoothly got off the table. It tapped the crowbar against it's leg. It's eyes had no life in them.

"I'm the Deviant Hunter."

It attacked.

* * *

Whimpers and groans filled the room.

Two sets of forearms were stacked on top of each other in the corner of the room. In the middle of the room, near the far wall, were the two androids they belonged to. They lied on the floor, blue blood pouring from their open arms. That was their worst injury. Everything else was minor and they would be able to survive without their forearms.

There was one android left. It had stumbled and started scrambling back when Deviant Hunter stalked towards it. It left blue footprints behind. Blue liquid dripped from it's hands and the crowbar it held.

Terrified eyes met dead ones.

PL600 slid down the wall it stupidly backed itself into.

"Now...now, listen, Connor-"

Deviant Hunter impaled PL600's shoulder with the crowbar. It shouted and cringed, as if it was really feeling pain. It supposed it was a normal, human reaction. Deviants had those tendencies. That didn't mean it truly felt it.

Being stabbed was not as painful as the poison.

"I'm sorry!" PL600 yelled, gripping at the steel lodged in it's body. "I swear I didn't know about the poison."

Deviant Hunter pulled the crowbar out. Blue blood started to stream off PL600's shoulder. It stabbed the Deviant's elbow and twisted it's weapon.

"That's a contradiction," Deviant Hunter said. There was no emotion. It tilted it's head. "You taunted me last night about it."

PL600 cried when Deviant Hunter pried it's arm off. The skin, like the other arms, deactivated. It leaned down and tossed the forearm to the other side of the room, where the other arms were laying. Blood poured profusely from PL600's arm and started to make a pool.

Deviant Hunter went for the other arm.

"Wait, please-!"

It already started. It twisted the crowbar.

_ "You know, I learned a lot since I met you, Connor."_

It paused mid-twist. It's eyes scanned the room. There was no one else other than it and the other three damaged androids.

Who is that man?

H#n% A$n3

It looked back to PL600 and went to work.

_ "Maybe there's something to this."_

Who is that man?

Han% And^s0n

It pried harder. The cries PL600 made didn't deter it.

_ "Maybe you really are alive."_

It stopped again. PL600's arm was barely hanging on by a few wires.

Who is that man?

Hank And&*son

A warm hand clapped it's shoulder.

It frowned.

_ "You did real good. I'm proud of you."_

Who is that man?

Hank And/son

_ "Come on. Let's go home, son."_

Who is that man?

_ Hank Anderson._

_Connor's_ eyes widened. His LED flickered yellow. He stepped back. His frown deepened when he looked at PL600.

Only one of his arms was gone and the other was still impaled by the crowbar. Connor took it out and it only got more blue blood everywhere. PL600 whined and held his arm. His LED was a bright red. Connor backed away.

He looked behind him. The other androids were trying to get to their torn off arms. They were still alive. He supposed that's what mattered. He didn't want to be a killer. He looked back to his PL600.

He did not feel regret. They got what they wanted and got what they deserved. They were alive to tell the tale, too. They should be grateful.

He threw the crowbar away. "Next time, don't poison and antagonize someone who can destroy you. They won't all go easy on you."

Connor turned and left the building. His LED went back to a calm blue.

_You saved me again, Hank._

* * *

Connor made sure to wash himself up before going back to Mister. He also spent some time wandering around the city to blow off some steam. His systems didn't get messed up after his confrontation. His leg got a little worse but he expected that. As a whole, his systems were fully functional. He would be able to leave tonight.

He helped Mister take down his stand when the time came around. Mister did question him about his exercises but Connor reassured him he was fine. The less Mister worried, the better. He would try to keep him in the city if Mister continued to worry.

While they were taking it down, Mister brought up something Connor had been avoiding.

"Did you hear the news? About that man on the train?"

Connor rubbed his hands together. He looked away.

"I heard someone mention it the other day but I didn't bother listening in," Connor eventually said.

"The news said it's possible that an android tried tearing him apart," Mister said. He shook his head. "He was literally a bloody mess."

"What made them think it was an android?"

"When he was found, they said there looked like blue blood was on the floor."

From when Connor purged.

Depending on when Michael was found, it should have evaporated.

"Or they think it's also because no human can beat up a person that bad," Mister continued. He pointed to his own hand. "Whoever it was tore his whole hand off."

"...Is he dead?"

"Yeah...no human would be able to survive something like that," Mister said, solemnly. "Not unless they got emergency treatment right away."

Connor nodded again. He had a hard time placing his emotion on this news. Connor hated Michael. He hated him more than anything. However, he didn't mean to kill him. He did not mean to go so far. It still disturbed him that he did.

He sighed. "It happened on a train, you said?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Where was the train headed?"

That was the one thing he didn't know. When he asked Michael all he got was a sarcastic response.

"Houston, Texas."

Connor sputtered. "_Houston_?"

"Yes...why?" Mister said, raising a brow.

Connor cleared his throat. He went to adjust his tie only to remember it was no longer there. He rubbed his hands together instead.

"Just...curious."

There was a long moment of silence. Connor couldn't bring himself to look at Mister anymore. He kept helping to clean up shop.

"Your Highness."

Connor still didn't look at him.

"Your Highness, are you in some kind of trouble?" Mister asked, gently.

Connor shook his head. It took all he had to keep his LED blue. "What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean, Your Highness."

Although he spoke words of possible accusation, his voice was calm and kind. Connor couldn't feel any malicious intent from him.

"If I was...what would you do to me?" Connor asked, nearly in a whisper. "Would you turn me in?"

Like before, there was a long moment of silence.

"No, Your Highness."

Connor finally looked at him. Mister's eyes were gentle and his posture was relaxed. He couldn't detect any lies from Mister. He never seemed like a liar. It was only Connor's paranoia that told him that at the start.

"I would tell you to be careful on your way home," Mister went on. He reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

Connor tried not to flinch.

"The world is dangerous as you know," Mister said. He let go of his shoulder. "You need to be careful."

"I intend to be," Connor said.

Mister reached into his basket and pulled out two packets of thirium. They were medium-sized. He handed them to Connor. "Please, take these. Try not to drink them all at once."

Connor could hear a hint of a teasing tone in that last sentence. He took the thirium and put the packets in his jacket pocket. "Thank you, Mister."

"Go home, Your Highness."

At 10:30PM, Connor left Queen City.

* * *

A little girl looked out her window in the passenger seat.

A dark, big figure walked into the forestry.

She pointed. "Mom, something is in the woods!"

The child's mother laughed. "It's probably just an animal, honey."

She blinked owlishly. "It looked too big to be an animal."

* * *

Connor torn off his jacket sleeve and wrapped it around his shin. He completely forgot to ask Mister for some duct tape. He probably could've found a place to steal some. That was his loss. He supposed he didn't mind using his sleeves, though he did prefer if his clothes were intact.

Beggars can't be choosers.

While he walked through the forest, he wondered if he would run into another couple like he did when he first jumped the train. Part of him doubted it for this wasn't a park area he was going through, nor was it some kind of former campground. That's what his map provided him with.

Unfortunately, walking through the forest also meant that his programs would be less responsive to him. It wasn't as if his communications programs worked, which he deemed the most important. He could wander around with a somewhat glitchy map. As long as it worked.

While he wandered through the forest, although home was his focus, he found that he liked the forest. Nature truly was beautiful. He was too distracted to pay attention to it when he first jumped off the train. Now that he was alone and in the safe zone, he could take some time to appreciate it.

The smell of the trees was much more refreshing than the more stagnant smell the city had. It was also much quieter; he could almost hear his artificial heartbeat. There was an underlying minor fear that something may happen but it wasn't as strong as it was when he was in a city.

When he got home, he would tell Hank that they should try camping in the summertime.

* * *

As he continued his long walk, he could feel the temperature change. It got a bit chillier. It wasn't bad, not as bad as Detroit by a long shot. However, because it got cooler, it made him feel like he was a little closer to home. There was still a long way to go. He was still nowhere near Detroit. That's what his glitchy little map told him.

If he was walking normally, he was still eleven days away. But things never worked out the way he wanted. As such, the time would be longer. This was the reason why he decided he would not enter stasis. He would only do so if he couldn't push himself any further. He would do anything to prevent that from happening. He had no time to sleep.

He wondered what Hank was doing, what he was thinking.

When he looked up at the now clear sky full of stars, he wondered if he was looking at the same sky Hank may have been looking at.

He kept going.

* * *

"This is...problematic…"

The next day around 9:30AM after the sun started to come up, Connor found himself facing a river. It wasn't too wide by any means. That wasn't the problem. Nor was it the problem that he hadn't swum much at all in his lifetime. He could easily adapt to that.

Under normal circumstances.

He wasn't sure how well his leg would be able to handle the river, if it would be distracting or not, if it would slow him down more than he already was.

He checked his map to find a way around it but there was nothing coming up. It was just the long river and he didn't want to take any detours. He looked around the forest. There weren't any fallen trees or large and long broken branches he could use for a bridge.

"I have things to lose...but everything to gain…"

Connor sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Okay. Here we go."

He rather unceremoniously jumped into the river. He immediately swam up to the top. He coughed up the water he unintentionally swallowed. It was thick and dirty and murky and all around disgusting. He rubbed his eyes. That was the last time he trusted a river that somewhat looked clean.

He started swimming the best he could manage. He should've tightened the fabric on his leg. It would've prevented less water entering the cut. The sensation of this dirty water flowing into his injury felt odd and almost made him feel like he was finally bleeding. He was tempted to stop then and there to check himself but went against it.

No stopping. It didn't matter how uncomfortable he was. This wasn't something he had a real choice in.

Connor decided he didn't like the idea of swimming in a river alone. Now and then he would almost sink. Not too bad, of course, but it was enough to give his systems a nervous stutter.

He climbed up the other side and immediately slipped down the tiny slope to the flat ground.

"God damn…"

He was careful the next time he went up the slope. He shook off his body. His jacket felt heavier now. He took it off and folded it over his arm. He tried to slick back his wet and dirty hair and kept on going.

He decided his next stop would be Little Rock.

It would take him one more day to get there. Well. Probably two.

When he checked his map he groaned.

Another river was waiting for him.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

We finally learn where Cyberlife was going to send Connor. Houston, Texas. The reason I chose Houston was because that's one of the "big cities" mentioned in the news during the Kamski Ending. Because they labeled it a "big city", I assume Cyberlife has a facility of some kind there.

Also I've finally decided that Home Sweet Home will be 12 chapters.

Let's see if Connor can get home.

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

~Kurosaki


	8. Chapter 8

[TW: Minor body horror]

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Young Deviant Lost**

The next river wasn't that bad. The water was still disgusting and there were times where he had almost dipped down, but it turned out alright. He had to try his best to keep his head up. Quite literally.

It was interesting, he thought, that he had been in deeper water than the rivers he surpassed, and yet this bothered him. Perhaps back then it was more of a spur of the moment. He didn't have time to think about it, he just had to jump. Now, though, he did have to think about it and just that alone made him overthink.

Swimming wasn't something complicated. He didn't know why he was making it out to be.

When he got to Little Rock the next day, he was nice and dry. The clear sky and warm sun definitely helped with that and he couldn't be more grateful. He didn't want to draw any attention to himself by walking into a new town soaking wet. It was bad enough one of his sleeves was torn and he had some dirt on his clothes. He didn't need to be wet, too.

His map told him that Little Rock, Arkansas was much smaller than any of the cities he had been in. It was more of a town than Queen City.

He hoped there were no hateful androids this time around.

He wasn't planning on staying long, not unlike before. He was going to find a store to get some thirium and get on his way. He still had some thirium but there was nothing wrong with getting more. The more the better, just in case something were to happen.

The time was 12:00PM.

Connor didn't fail to notice the curious looks some people tossed his way. He couldn't exactly blame them. He wasn't the most...clean person, at the moment. He would most certainly need new clothes by the time he got home.

He entered the closest gas station. There were other customers this time but no android employees. Already he could feel suspicious eyes on him. They didn't stare for long but he could hear some surprised whispers. He blocked them out for the most part.

He strolled up and down the aisles looking for thirium, no matter how small the packets may be. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to take it this time around. He doubted he could convince humans unless he put on some kind of act, or actually decided to be stealthy in stealing it this time.

When he couldn't find anything, he headed for the counter.

"Excuse me, where is the thirium?" he asked.

"Sorry, buddy," the male clerk said. He wiped the counter. "We don't sell thirium no more. Stopped a few weeks back."

Connor frowned. "Why?"

"We have our reasons," he said.

Connor looked between the male clerk and the young woman standing next to him. They weren't exactly inconspicuous when it came to glancing strange looks at each other. It wasn't as if Connor was right in front of them or anything.

"Okay…" Connor said, awkwardly. "Do you know where I can get some?"

"Well…" Male Clerk seemed to contemplate. He stopped rubbing the counter. "I guess there's one place."

"Oh no, no, don't even go there," Female Clerk scolded, snatching the rag from him. "No."

He didn't have time for bickering employees.

"Just tell me where I can get some."

"There might be some in North Little Rock," Male Clerk said before his co-worker could interrupt.

"What does that mean? _Might_?"

"It means there _might _be some," Male Clerk said. He shrugged. "Take it or leave it, buddy."

Connor sighed.

"Just...get outta here," he said. "You don't really fit in here."

Female Clerk face-palmed.

Connor said nothing. He turned and left the gas station.

Thankfully for him, North Little Rock wasn't that far away. There were three different paths he could take. It wouldn't take him long to get there. He just hoped there actually was thirium there.

Something he wanted to know was why there was none here. There couldn't not be any androids here. There had to be at least five, most towns did from what he researched. Rather from what he speculated. Androids were everywhere. If a small city like Queen City had some, Little Rock must have had some.

He couldn't place his finger on why this bothered him. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to run into them. Yet…

Connor decided he hated contradicting thoughts. One minute he didn't want any in case of an accident like before, the next minute he wanted to see some. He wondered how this worked. He would have to ask Hank when he got home.

He shouldn't have thought about Hank. It made his systems stutter momentarily.

To get to North Little Rock would be easy and take no time at all. It was only a bridge-walk away on the other side of the town. It wasn't the largest town in the world, so even in his condition; it would only take a few minutes to reach one of the bridges leading to North Little Rock. Simple.

Connor decided to take the Clinton Presidential Park Bridge. There were a couple different bridges from what Connor's map said. The Park Bridge, despite it being in the middle of the day, was quieter at the moment. The less people looking at him the better and the general area seemed quiet as a whole. It suited his needs perfectly.

Dark grey clouds started to cover up the sky, blocking out any comforting warmth the sun gave off. It wasn't cold, nor was it _getting_ colder, but Connor still had a shiver run down his spine. He stopped halfway down the bridge. There was nothing stopping him from continuing, there was no invisible wall. Yet for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to go ahead.

He backed up. Maybe he chose wrong. Maybe this wasn't the best way to get to North Little Rock. That's all he could think of. He didn't know what else to blame for this sudden change.

A body slammed into his from behind. Arms wrapped around his waist.

"Get of-"

"You can't go that way!"

Connor didn't even have to struggle. The woman trying to tug him back was doing it for him. He pried her arms off and turned around. His brows rose. It was a WR400 android. She looked like she just saw a ghost, her eyes wide and if she was a human, she would probably be sweating.

"What's-"

She grabbed Connor's arms and tried tugging again. She was too weak for her own good.

"Stop-"

"You can't go there!"

He scowled. "Okay, just-"

She shook him. "You don't understand!"

_You're not helping with that._

"Tell me wh-"

WR400 started getting too close for comfort. He backed up and forced her hands off again. This was tiring. "Listen, lady-"

"No! It's bad!"

Connor stumbled back the more she tried to get her point across, whatever that point was. When she tried grabbing him again, he more aggressively shoved her away. His back hit the guard railing and he soon found himself being flipped over the side of it. His body hit the river with a loud splash and he sunk.

It took him a moment to snap back to reality before he started to swim back up to the top. He coughed up much more water than when he first had to back with his first river crossing. It took a couple coughing fits to get it out. He looked up from where he fell and saw that WR400 was gone.

He started to swim back to shore, in the direction he was originally going to for North Little Rock. His systems stuttered now and then as he pushed his way through the water. His LED glowed yellow and reflected off the water.

It took him a couple minutes until he was near the riverbank. Even then, it wasn't exactly a bank. There was a rocky, muddy slope he had to get up first before getting to the flatter ground. He found a decent place to grip onto and started to force himself up the slope.

There were a few hiccups on his way up. Being as wet as he was, he occasionally lost his grip and footing, causing him to slide back down. His bad leg certainly wasn't helping and he didn't have to look at it to know his self-made bandage was no longer there. It took him three attempts before he got a good enough grip and footing before he managed to finally get up to the flatter ground.

He crawled forward on the grass and stopped when he felt he was far away enough from the edge of the slope. Water dripped profusely off his body. His clothes and hair stuck to him. His insides still stuttered lightly every now and then, even when he sat still.

He leaned back and lifted his pant-leg. The cut wasn't worse than the last time he checked, but there were smaller scrapes around it now. There were small scraps on his hands now, too.

He reluctantly tore his last jacket sleeve off and tied it around the cut. He made sure to have it tighter and much more secure. Part of him did wonder if there was a point to it. Part of him wondered if there was a point to anything.

Connor stood. He shook his body off, not that it did much. He started to walk. He left a water trail behind him.

It took him a few minutes to get to the road and start heading to the town. He passed near a garage, where a mechanic was tending to a car.

"Hey, buddy," he called. "What happened to you? You're soaking wet!"

Connor ignored him.

"Buddy…?"

Two other mechanics came out of the garage and watched as Connor silently left.

They all exchanged looks before watching again.

* * *

A lone android limped down the side of the road. His clothes were wet and dirty. His hands had scrapes. His hair was disheveled. Eyes that were probably once bright were now dull. His LED was an alarming red. He left a water trail behind him. He only looked ahead.

People watched from where they stood outside, from inside their cars, from inside stores where they could look out the windows. Some had eyes of sympathy. Some had eyes of confusion. Some had eyes of sorrow.

"Look at that."

"He looks so lost…"

"And people say androids can't feel sad. This shows otherwise."

"I wonder where he's going."

"Poor kid."

"I've never seen an android look so depressed…"

He shouldn't have done it. He _really_ shouldn't have done it. But he knew there would eventually come a day where he would cave into his desperation. This was that day and he would regret it immediately.

CALLING HANK ANDERSON…

…

UNABLE TO PUT THE CALL THROUGH

TRY AGAIN?

[YES] [NO]

…

[YES] **[NO]**

Connor limped a few more steps before he dropped to his knees.

He stared at the road with a blank stare. His shoulders slumped. His body shook. It felt as if something had gotten stuck in his throat. He furrowed his brows.

_This is not fair._

He didn't do anything wrong. All he wanted was to be home. He wanted to be with Hank. He wanted to hear his voice again, see his smile. He wanted to nag him, go to work with him. He wanted so much.

_You stupid old man…Why did you have to throw me away?_

He didn't want it to be an auditory hallucination or a memory playback. He didn't want it to be a dream. He wanted the real Hank Anderson, the real Detroit, the real everything.

_**This is not fair…**_

His vision blurred. Tears gently strolled down his face and dripped off his chin. He choked out a quiet sob. Then another sob came. And another. The tears got heavier.

He didn't want to be lost anymore.

He wanted to be home.

All he could do was sit there and cry.

* * *

The time was 3:45PM. Connor had sat out on his knees and cried for over three hours. In that time, no one bothered him. When he got up, he still felt numb and his head was all over the place. He forgot the real reason he came to North Little Rock. He just found himself walking into a bar.

"Hey, chief, want a drink?"

Connor shook his head. He rested his elbows on the bar's counter. He had heard of alcoholic thirium for androids now. It was fairly new and he didn't want to take any chances if something went wrong. He would leave the drinking for humans or other careless androids.

"No, I don't drink," he said. He rubbed his hands together.

"Are you sure? It'll be on the house," Bartender said. "You really look like you could use one."

He scoffed. He was the definition of a mess, he supposed.

"I'm sure," he said. He looked up from his hands and looked at Bartender. "What I need is a ride. Is there a rental car place around here? Anything like that?"

Bartender frowned. "Sorry, chief. This town don't got one. It used to but it closed a few years back."

Of course it did.

He sighed. "Thanks…"

He turned and started to leave. Bartender called out to Connor before he reached the door.

"By the way, chief...You shouldn't be walking around with that vest."

_Vest_. _Fucking. __**Vest**__._

Connor whipped around. His LED was yellow. "This _vest _used to be a _jacket_," he snapped. He stepped forward. "But I had to tear the sleeves off because my self-repair program refuses to work."

"Uh-"

"Listen, _chief_, I've had a bad enough time today as it is. I don't need a bartender to tell me how much of a mess I am so-" He slammed his hands on the counter. "-_back off and leave me alone!_"

Bartender stepped back. He raised his hands. The whole bar had gone silent. All eyes, nervous, curious, shocked, were on Connor.

He stepped away from the counter. His LED shifted back to blue. He mumbled an apology and exited the bar. He was doing a terrible job at trying to get people to keep their eyes off him. All he managed was to get everyone's attention. He needed to work on that. But it wasn't his fault people were nosy.

Connor wasn't sure what to do now. He debated on whether he should go back to Little Rock or not. It wouldn't be too draining, physically or mentally. However, it seemed like a waste of time, too, for he had come to North Little Rock for a reason and leaving without fulfilling it made him uncomfortable.

Everything as of late made him uncomfortable.

He opened his map and tried to figure out which way he should go when he actually left the town. He tried to see if there were any shortcuts or 'cheats' he could use to get to Detroit faster. The only way he could really get there faster, though, was by a vehicle. Until he got that, it probably didn't matter what kind of shortcut he tried.

He closed the map and looked around. He was fine with stealing things like thirium and duct tape (if he were to find some). What he was not fine with was stealing someone's car; no matter how much more he needed it than the owner. He also couldn't hop on a train or get on a bus. He didn't want all his morals to go down the drain.

He sat on a nearby bench and tried to contemplate.

It was 6:50PM when it happened.

Connor was trying to find a small store where he could take some thirium when there was an ear-piercing scream. He didn't know where it came from and he didn't care. It was outrageously loud. He slammed his palms against his ears and bit his lip. It started to bleed. Even with his ears covered, the scream was loud.

It got worse. Another scream, a distorted one, joined in. Then another scream. And another. There were different kinds of screams. Screams from adults, screams from children, and he couldn't help but think they were androids. It's what he gathered from the static. The static could have been something his head was making up, though.

He kept his hands on his ears and started walking to where he thought the screaming was coming from. He didn't know why. His body moved on its own. He couldn't even calculate where he was going.

It got louder the further he walked. He was too distracted with the screams to care about the strange looks. He could care less about them.

"St...st…"

It got beyond loud when Connor turned a corner and found himself facing a strange building. It was run down. Derelict. Unlike the building in Queen City he thought was abandoned, he was sure this one was. This building looked ready to collapse.

The screaming kept up, kept getting louder and louder and he didn't even know if that was possible.

"STOP SCREAMING!"

_It hurts...No...Androids __**don't**__..._

"PLEASE STOP SCREAMING! I CAN'T HELP YOU!"

"...Pal?"

Connor whipped around so fast he almost fell over. A man, perhaps in his early-forties, stood with his arms behind back. His head was tilted and his brows were raised.

"...You okay?"

_Does it look like it?_

Connor tried speaking. He did manage to open his mouth but nothing came out. He bit his lip again and just shook his head. He had no idea what else to do.

Forty walked forward. He smiled gently. "Hey...You look exhausted, Pal."

He narrowed his eyes. This was not helping.

"Maybe you should just…" He shrugged. He reached up and patted Connor's head.

Connor wanted to punch him then and there. And he would've. If he had the strength to do so. If he moved his hands, the screams would be much worse.

"Go to sleep," Forty said. He put both hands on Connor's shoulders and pulled him to his knees. "The noise will go away, kiddo. It'll go away."

"Wh-"

**EMERGENCY STASIS ACTIVATED**

* * *

Connor shifted. He was surrounded by silence. He moaned and rolled onto his back. He sat up slowly and opened his eyes. He rubbed them, a rather human gesture he realized. His eyes went from hardly open to outright wide.

"SHIT!"

He backed up and his artificial heartbeat picked up profusely. "Wh-what the hell…"

An android head with its skin deactivated and no actual eyes sat perfectly on the floor in front of him. What made him feel disgusted was the fact it was a child's head. He swallowed oncoming thirium. He hesitantly looked around the room he was in. Like many things, he regretted it and wished he didn't have the nerve to look around.

Android bodies, some with their skin deactivated and some not, were _everywhere_.

Arms and legs lay haphazardly. Some were on shelves. Bodies were stacked on top of each other or just placed around lazily. LEDs littered the floor. Wires lay around, mostly under the table in the center of the room. He looked up. It was much harder to hold back his thirium this time.

Android heads hung from the ceiling by large fish hooks.

Connor backed himself up against the wall. Had he not been in a cage, he would've bolted for the door. He took some deep breaths to try and cool his systems.

When he was poisoned three days prior, he thought that was terror. That was nothing compared to this. _This _was terror, _this _was a nightmare, _this _was something nobody should have to see or endure.

"H...Hank…"

He needed help. He needed help _now_.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

We're getting into the really emotion territory now. Connor finally had his emotional meltdown, something he's been needing to have for far too long. He can only hold back for so long.

This is also probably my favourite chapter title so far. I don't know why, but it is.

Now, let us see if Connor can get out of this mess.

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

~Kurosaki


	9. Chapter 9

[TW: Minor sexual harassment]

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Time of Bravery**

The last thing Connor remembered was listening to screams and a man coming up to him. The man mocked him and went on to activate his emergency stasis. That's all Connor could conclude. He could've been wrong somewhere. He didn't know and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know every detail.

He was a bit too distracted with all the body parts hanging around. He now understood why the female store clerk wasn't enthusiastic about North Little Rock. He now understood just what WR400 was freaking out about and was trying to warn him about. He now understood why there were no androids, none he could see anyway.

He tried opening his internal clock to check the time but it didn't work. He tried other programs. They didn't work either. He was screwed if he got injured. He was screwed in general.

Hank once said that trouble followed him around like a _pet fucking dog_. Connor officially agreed with him. Trouble did follow him around.

He stood and walked to the bars. He gripped at them and tried tugging. Naturally, nothing happened. He didn't tug too hard to begin with. He didn't want to make too much noise. God knows who was going to hear. He already knew the person who took him was cruel, if he did this to androids. Even if he did it to humans Connor would still consider him cruel.

This was...disgusting.

How someone could do this to anyone was beyond his mindset. He did not want to understand this person. Connor had his moments, sure. He would never go this far, though. He did go far when he killed Michael, but he didn't mean to. That was beyond his control. He did hurt those androids in Queen City, tore their arms off. But he would never go this far, never do something as cruel as this.

This person needed the death sentence.

He backed away from the bars and sat again. He went to stare up at the ceiling to think but stopped himself. He didn't want to see the hanging heads again. He stared at his hands that were folded in his lap instead. They still had some scrapes on them.

He didn't dare check his leg.

It felt like he had been sitting in the Room of Horrors for hours before the door creaked open. He looked up from his hands. Forty, who he now decided to dub Psycho, walked down the three creaky, wooden steps. He looked like your everyday person, as if nothing in this room was to be disturbed by. He smiled.

"You're finally up, huh?" Psycho said. He stood in front of the cage. "The screams must've done a number on you."

Connor wanted to forget them. He had the feeling they would stay stored in his memory storage forever.

"Most androids try to avoid the screams and yet..._you_ walked right to them," he went on. "Why?"

Connor remained silent.

"You mentioned something about not being able to help them," Psycho said. "What does that mean? I want to know, tell me."

He wouldn't. He wasn't entirely sure why he went to the voices either. He suspected it may be second nature. He was a police officer. It was his job to help people. That was the only reason he could think of. He didn't plan on telling Psycho that, though.

"How long have I been out?" Connor asked.

"Almost two days."

Connor sputtered. "Wh-"

"But that's more on me than your actual systems," Psycho continued. "You probably would've woken up sooner if I didn't force you down."

"Why did you?"

"So you're well rested for your treatment, of course."

Connor shifted uncomfortably. He kept silent.

Psycho walked over to where the android head was at. He started kicking it around like it was a soccer ball.

Connor felt anger brewing in him.

"I always want my victims refreshed. I always want them to know what's happening to them."

The more he kicked the head, the angrier Connor got. The anger turned to outright fury when Psycho kicked the head aggressively against the wall. It was hard enough to cause the head to crack and scatter some plastic on the floor.

Connor wanted this man dead.

He looked up at him when Psycho walked back to him. The moment he opened the gate, Connor stood and immediately went to tackle him. He was either too slow or reckless for he didn't see the butcher knife Psycho pulled from his belt and thrust into his midsection, just _below _his Thirium Pump.

That didn't deter him. He tried to push himself away to get the knife out, but Psycho wrapped an arm around his back and kept him close to his body, much too close. He tried to pull the knife away to get more room. He got dragged to the table and twisted on top of it. Psycho took out the knife. It hadn't been in as deep as Connor thought.

"Calm down, Pal," Psycho said in a scolding tone, as if Connor was a child. "I'm keeping you alive for a little while longer."

Connor sat up before his wrists could be strapped in the metal cables waiting for him. Psycho pressed one hand against Connor's chest and forced him onto his back again before impaling his shoulder with the knife to keep him pinned.

"_Calm down_."

Connor reached over to pull the knife out but Psycho straddled his waist quickly and snatched his arm. He pulled it back and forced his wrist into the metal cable next to the side of his head.

"You don't know what calm down means, do y-"

Connor bit down on Psycho's hand when it got close to his mouth. He kept a tight hold while Psycho tried to push him off. Unlike Michael, he refused to let go no matter how hard Psycho tried to push him off. His blood slipped into his mouth.

There was a satisfying pop and finally Connor let go. Psycho's hand wasn't even close to being torn off but to pop it out of place was good enough. He licked the disgusting blood away and was grateful his programs were offline. He didn't want this bastard's name. This was also the only blood he planned on getting from Psycho.

Psycho rubbed his hand and got off his waist. He didn't look displeased. As a matter of fact, he was smiling. He looked too amused. "Very creative, Pal. I like it."

He proceeded to take Connor's other wrist and slipped it into the metal cable. He was also oh-so-generous and removed the knife from his shoulder. Connor tried tugging at his wrists. The cables weren't as tight as they could've been, but they weren't loose by any means. He wouldn't be able to slip out easily. Not without some kind of sacrifice.

He flinched when he felt his ankles get strapped. He frowned. This was the first time the lower half of his body was restrained. It took him seconds to decide he didn't like it. He tried tugging. His legs barely bent up. He settled. Panicking wouldn't do anything. He would have to figure out what to do with his legs later.

He tried to avoid looking at the ceiling. He stared at the wall to his left instead. It was the only one with nothing on it. No body parts, that is. There was a table where something that looked like a toolbox was at. There were a few different 'weapons' on them, ranging from a chainsaw, a jigsaw, more knives…

"There's something I want to know about, Pal," Psycho said as he walked up to his right side. Connor didn't look at him. "Why is a Deviant wandering around with his old Cyberlife jacket? I assume it was a jacket at one point anyway."

Connor looked at his body now. He furrowed his brows. He didn't even notice his jacket was removed. He looked to the wall again. "None of your business."

There was a certain reminder on it. A reminder that he was willing to give his life to save Hank. He was willing to get riddled with bullets once and he'd be more than willing to do so again if it meant keeping Hank alive. He wanted that reminder, even if Hank was shocked when he saw Connor waiting at Kamski's house.

Psycho only nodded. He stroked the top of his head. Connor turned his head away. He didn't like the look on Psycho's face. The smile wasn't normal, neither was that strange glint in his eyes.

"How many times do I have to tell you to calm down?" he asked. He moved his hand away. "I'm going to make things slow- you're going to enjoy this."

Connor highly doubted it.

He straddled his waist again. He started to unbutton Connor's shirt. Once it was open, Psycho pulled out a switchblade he had hanging from his belt. He pressed the tip only slightly in Connor's skin near his collarbone before he dragged down. It only gave a minor jolt as he dragged. It wasn't deep enough for a lot of blood to pour, but enough to leave a long scratch.

"I like to leave this-" Psycho carved a diamond-like shape around Connor's Thirium Pump. "-for last."

He went on to continue to drag the blade down the rest of Connor's front, stopping when he reached his pants. He then made a horizontal scratch from his left rib cage (or where a human rib cage would be) to the right rib cage. Connor couldn't see properly but he assumed Psycho carved a thin cross. He then fingered said 'cross' as if it would keep it engraved in Connor's skin.

Little did he know (or maybe he did know) that when Connor's self-repair program came back on, this would be fixed. His self-repairs could manage the small things like that. Maybe if it was much deeper it would be a different story. But it wasn't. It was light.

"You got your guidelines," Connor said. He assumed that's what the cross was meant for. "You can get off me now."

"You don't like intimacy?"

_ I'd hardly call this __**intimacy**__._

"I wasn't built for that." It didn't make him any less...anxious. People did sick things all the time. This was something Connor had been personally getting familiar with lately.

If Psycho was sick enough to chop up and torture androids in this way, Connor didn't doubt he was more than okay to attempt assault. He wanted to prevent it before it happened.

"I didn't say you were," Psycho said. He shrugged. "I read your jacket, Pal. You're...RK-something, if I remember."

"RK800," Connor corrected. "So, get off."

He sighed in relief when Psycho complied and hopped off his waist. He stroked his head again, though.

"Your loss. It usually makes victims comfortable."

Again, Connor highly doubted it.

"I also noticed something when you walked here," Psycho said. His tone was all too annoying. He moved around to the end of the table.

Connor kept his eyes on him.

Psycho used his switchblade to cut Connor's right pant-leg off from the knee down. At least it wasn't aggressively torn off. He put the blade down. He patted the cut gently. Connor tried jerking his leg away. The cables kept him still for the most part.

"What happened here?" Psycho asked, curiously. "It's dangerous to walk around with a cut this deep."

Connor remained silent.

Psycho casually slipped his fingers gingerly into the cut. It sent a jolt through Connor's leg. He tried getting his leg away again. Psycho rubbed the inside and hummed.

Connor didn't want to beg. He didn't want to give this bastard any satisfaction. The sensation of his fingers roaming up and down inside his cut was disconcerting. Psycho kept digging his fingers in and Connor was sure he was going to try and pry the cut open further.

"Wait," Connor said before he could stop himself. He did his best to keep his voice firm. "You said you liked torturing people slowly. Busting up my leg worse would make this too fast. I would bleed too much and it wouldn't be satisfying."

He wasn't sure what else to say. That was all he knew about Psycho. He liked slow torture. That's all Connor could offer him.

Psycho contemplated. He _slowly _slid his fingers out of the cut. He stalked back to Connor's side. Connor tracked his movements. Psycho removed some sewing scissors from his back pocket. He sat on the side of the table. He didn't break eye contact with Connor.

"You know, Pal...Your eyes are…"

Connor blocked out the rest of his words. He didn't like compliments regarding his appearance anymore.

He snapped back to reality when the scissors were gently slid under his eye. It just about cut some wires but not quite yet. They were too thin and Psycho was being careful. He would've moved his head away but it would've gotten worse. Static, light or not, started to invade his vision the more the scissors slid in. Thirium started to spill lightly.

A bad leg was one thing, but not being able to see properly was something else. It would glitch out his map more than it already was. There was a low chance he would be able to get it replaced right away, for there were no repair centers anywhere nearby. He didn't even have time for repair centers. He needed to leave.

"Wait…" Connor said. "Eyes are also much too fast. This won't get you any screams from me either."

Psycho shook his head. "Oh, I'm not going to tear it out. I want you to see as much as possible."

He took the scissors out. Thirium continued to spill from Connor's eye. It was a small detail that wouldn't matter to most victims, but he was glad it was his left eye. The right side of his body seemed to be getting most of the damage and that was, unfortunately, his dominant side. He could adapt to his left side but there wasn't any time for that either. There wasn't time for anything.

Psycho rubbed his finger around Connor's eye, gathering the thirium. Connor closed the eye and turned to him. He cringed when Psycho started to suck the blood off his finger. He cringed further when Psycho started humming and moaning, like it was the most satisfying thing he's ever tasted.

_And Hank says __**I'm **__disgusting…_

"Not bad, Pal," Psycho said after sucking the last bit of thirium. "It tastes pretty good. It's been a while since I've had thirium."

"So you lick all of your victims' blood," Connor said.

"Only some," Psycho said. He tilted his head. "Mind if I have more? You're still bleeding."

"Fuck you."

"Thought you said you weren't built for that," he said. He patted Connor's chest. "Changed your mind?"

"_No_."

"Your loss, again."

Psycho took the sewing scissors and pressed it into his throat. Connor bit his lip. Psycho started scraping the scissors back and forth. It wasn't deep enough to mess with his voice modulator. It was more like a scratch, like the guidelines Psycho started with. His throat itched and he wanted to rub it away. He also wanted his self-repairs to turn back on. Psycho couldn't keep it off forever.

He removed the scissors. He ran his hand through Connor's hair. "It's hard to get noise from you, huh?"

It wasn't as if he dug the weapon deep. Something light like that wouldn't make him scream, not that he planned on screaming for this bastard any time soon. He'd have to really push him and he didn't plan on giving Psycho that kind of chance.

Psycho started circling the table. Connor waited for his next move. "What are you fighting for, Pal?"

Connor remained silent.

"Anything? Anything at all?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"You are the most depressed android I have ever seen," Psycho said, stopping at the end of the table. "But you're still trying to get out."

Connor frowned. "I am not depressed."

He would know if he was. He would know something like that, right? He knew he wasn't familiar with emotions but if he was depressed, he would certainly know.

"You sure about that, Pal? I don't think so."

"What you think doesn't matter to me."

What mattered to him was going home.

Psycho tapped the table. Connor twitched when Psycho slipped his fingers into Connor's cut once again. He rubbed his nails against the veins. The more he rubbed, the more Connor could tell he was trying to slowly cut it.

While he was doing that, Connor tried to think of a distraction. The one thing that came to his mind was HK400. When it was under extreme stress, it slammed its head against the wall.

He closed his eyes and started slamming the back of his head into the table. It wasn't hard enough to do any severe damage, but just enough to produce some blood.

He only managed to do this for a few seconds before Psycho came back around and grabbed the sides of his head, effectively stopping him from continuously slamming his head back. Connor met Psycho's eyes. He looked frustrated now. Connor tried to suppress a smug expression. He didn't have many resources but he would use whatever he had.

"No self-destructing, Pal," Psycho said, lowly.

He wasn't trying to. It wasn't his fault Psycho was too off the rails to realize that.

Connor nodded. He did his best to look weaker; soften his eyes and try to give a duller stare. He didn't have to worry about changing his LED, for it was already a bright red.

Psycho slowly let go of his head. Connor looked away to the wall. Now it was just a matter of time. He had to be patient and wait for Psycho to go knife-happy. If he didn't hurry up, Connor would have to egg him on.

* * *

Connor truly was getting drained.

Psycho continued to make small scratches on his bare skin. He didn't pick up the butcher knife again. He only used the scissors and switchblade. He kept away from his leg and eye but he was still tainting him.

It was hard to not enter emergency stasis. It was hard not to take deep breaths to cool his systems. He couldn't do that, for that would be satisfying to Psycho. He would enjoy watching Connor take deep breaths. It was a sign of weakness, after all.

It felt like Connor had been there for days, but he knew that in reality, it had only been an hour or two.

Connor couldn't even get furious when Psycho talked about his previous victims. Psycho bragged about the children especially. Apparently they were just as satisfying as the adults. Their screams were 'interesting'. Their struggle was 'amusing'. And Connor was too drained to properly react to it.

He still wanted Psycho dead, though. He knew that and it didn't go away, no matter how drained he was getting.

"This can't be entertaining to you," Connor said. He almost flinched at his voice. It was hoarse. Not static-y. Just hoarse.

"Oh no, it is," Psycho said. He hopped off the table. "It's been so long since I've been able to carve into a body. No less a pretty one. The prettier, the better."

"But you aren't getting a lot of gushing blood," Connor pointed out. "You're only getting a little."

"This is true," Psycho said. He placed a hand on his chin. He hummed. "I wonder if I should give you the proper treatment now."

_Thank fucking god_.

Psycho picked up the butcher knife. "This death is still going to be slow, even chopping you into tiny pieces."

"You can't kill me," Connor scoffed. "I haven't gone home yet."

Psycho smirked. "And you're not going to."

_Fucking bring it on_.

He waited much too long for this moment. Psycho looked over his body. Connor took a deep breath at long last. It didn't cool his systems too much but it was fine. It was enough for the moment. He glared at Psycho.

"Do it already!" Connor snapped. He tugged at his right arm. "Chop my hand off!"

He didn't need it.

Psycho stared at him.

"_**DO IT****!**_"

Psycho looked more amused now. Connor gave him a more challenging stare. Part of him was nervous. It was now or never. This was his only chance. He had to take it to advantage as much as possible. One slip up and he was done. There was a high probability of death if he messed this up in any way.

He couldn't die now.

This time, he couldn't stop himself from crying out when the butcher knife cleanly chopped his hand off straight from the wrist.

He acted faster than he thought was possible.

He twisted his body around before the knife could come down again and used the blood pouring from his new injury to cover his good hand and wrist. He tugged aggressively. His hand slipped out. He shifted to the other side when Psycho tried to stab him again. Connor reached over to the table nearby and barely managed to grab onto something. He didn't know or care what it was. It was hard and heavy and it was enough to push back and distract Psycho when he chucked it at him.

He sat up and leaned over, using his hand to get his foot free. Psycho recovered and tried to stab his back. Connor slid off the table, though his right foot was still stuck in the cable. He tugged and his foot slipped out of his shoe. He wouldn't need it.

He rolled onto his side and forced himself up, bolting up the stairs and throwing the door open. As fast as he opened it, he closed it right as a gun went off. A bullet lodged itself in the wooden door.

He didn't think. He just acted. As he rushed forward, he could already see the front door was locked. He changed direction and charged at the window instead. He curled in on himself as he jumped and threw his body into it. Glass stuck to him when he landed on the hard concrete. He could already hear Psycho coming after him.

Connor stood and continued to run as fast as possible. He didn't look behind him. He turned a corner and found himself on the street he was on before this happened.

He ignored his sore body; all the shocks that coursed through his body as he kept going. He left a blue blood trail behind, but for once it was a good thing. He needed Psycho to follow him.

Passerby's shrieked as the gun went off and a bullet lodged itself into Connor's shoulder. He stumbled and collapsed. He took fast breaths before pulling himself up and running again. He needed to find a tall building. Another gunshot went off but the bullet didn't hit him this time.

He had no idea how he managed to stay as upright as he was. He was a bloody mess and his leg was bothering him like no tomorrow. There were more shrieks as the run and gunshots continued. Right as Connor turned to hide in the safety of an alley, a bullet just barely grazed the back of his head.

He clenched his teeth to prevent himself from purging. He was losing too much blood as it was with his hand chopped off. He groaned and dragged himself up to his knees. He looked up to the building at his left. A ladder led up to the roof. He pulled himself up and started to climb the best he could in his condition.

He almost collapsed again when he got on the roof and he couldn't be more grateful that it was flat. The building wasn't as high as he wanted it but it would suffice. It would work effectively.

He walked to the edge and looked down. Psycho looked up from below. Connor backed up as Psycho tried to shoot him again. He backed up to the far end of the roof. He waited for Psycho.

He didn't move or try to do anything when Psycho climbed up. He was panting but kept upright. He had decent stamina for a human. But humans made mistakes all the time. Recklessly following people on rooftops was one of those things.

"There ain't nowhere to run now, Pal," Psycho said, once he collected himself.

"I don't plan on running," Connor said, his voice calm.

"It's commendable that you escaped. No one else got even close." He clapped. "Bravo."

Connor didn't react when Psycho aimed the gun between his eyes.

"You made a fatal mistake following me up here," Connor said.

"That's the other way around, Pal," Psycho said. He shook his head. "You can't jump to the next roof. Not in your condition."

"I already said I don't plan on running."

He also didn't plan on getting this man's blood on his hands.

Psycho was still smiling, still amused.

He pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He pulled the trigger again.

Nothing happened.

Humans, again, were reckless. Not bringing extra ammo was one of those reckless actions.

Psycho put his gun in his pocket. He shrugged. "I don't need a gun to kill you. You know what I'm capable of."

Connor took one step forward.

Psycho took one step back.

"Unfortunately, I do."

He wished he didn't. He wished he didn't see or experience anything that happened down there. He preferred the poison over that.

He stepped forward.

Psycho stepped back. He still looked at him with an amused look. "And yet, you still corner yourself."

"That seems to be the other way around now."

Connor took one step forward.

Psycho took one step back.

"You won't hurt or kill another android again."

Connor took _one single step forward_.

Psycho took _one single step back_.

He screamed as he fell off the roof. Seconds later, there was a loud thud and bones cracking. Passerby's shrieked again.

Connor walked over to the edge and looked down. Psycho's body was bent in an awkward position, his bones jutting out of his skin in different places. His eyes were wide and his mouth was gaping open. Blood poured from the back of his head.

He sighed. His body slumped. He backed away from the edge. His eyes became droopy, which felt odd yet almost natural at the same time. He carefully sat on his knees. He curled in on himself and lay on his side. He closed his eyes.

* * *

Connor shifted lightly. There were muffled cheers. He slowly opened his eyes. He looked around. Immediately, his eyes widened the second he realized he was being carried. He pushed himself out of the man's arms and collapsed onto the concrete again. He scrambled away from him.

"Don't you touch me!"

He raised his hands. "It's okay, it's okay," he said. His voice was soft. "You're safe now."

Connor frowned. He stood carefully. He turned when the cheering continued. Now that he was awake, it seemed louder now. He stepped back when he saw many smiling faces. He was surprised to see some androids in the mix.

"Why are they cheering?" Connor asked. His LED flickered yellow.

"You don't remember?"

Connor sighed. "No, I remember."

He would give anything not to.

"Then why are you surprised?" The man asked, incredulously. "You just took care of our android serial killer- you're a hero!"

Connor flinched. He looked down.

"I am not a _hero_. I was just doing my job."

"You are! You saved the few androids left in this city."

"_I'm not a hero_," Connor repeated, a little harder this time. He wanted the cheering to stop.

He tried to ignore what was going on around him and looked at himself. His arm had stopped bleeding. As a matter of fact, his sleeve had been torn off and was wrapped around it. He checked his other sleeve. That, too, was torn. He didn't have to look to know it was wrapped around his leg.

He sighed.

"Sorry, I didn't know what else to use for bandages," the man said, sheepishly.

Thankfully, the cheering died down. The citizens were still smiling though. Some of them even had tears in their eyes or running down their faces. Most of the androids had their LEDs removed, but he saw two blue ones in the mix.

"It's alright," Connor mumbled.

He didn't fail to notice his shirt was still open and dirty and torn and still had blue blood on it. He noticed there were some scratches left. They were faded and would hopefully all be gone soon. His eye also seemed to be doing better. Not completely healed, but he didn't expect it to be. His self-repairs could only do so much on their own.

He closed his eyes.

**MISSION: GO BACK HOME**

_Working on it…_

He turned from the crowd and started to head down the sidewalk. He didn't want to be in the town any longer, no matter how sore he may be, no matter how low on thirium he may be. This town would be a constant reminder. Staying here wouldn't be healthy.

...He decided he would probably need a lot of therapy when he got home.

"Wait!"

He stopped. He recognized that voice.

He turned and saw the WR400 from before. She ran up to him. "I'm sorry that I pushed you off the bridge."

"I don't care. It is what it is."

She sighed. She reached into her bag and pulled out three thirium packets. "Please, you look like you could use these."

Connor looked between the thirium and WR400. "How do I know it isn't poisoned?"

She frowned. "Why would I poison someone who saved androids from our serial killer?"

He reached over and took them. He looked them over. They looked fine but so did the thirium that PL600 and those other androids gave him. He went to hand them back. WR400 stepped back and shook her head.

"Please. I promise they aren't poisoned."

"They really aren't."

Another familiar voice came around. The bartender he snapped at walked up to them.

"I gave it to her," he said. He raised his hands. "They're completely clean. They aren't induced with any kind of alcohol."

Connor shifted his eyes to the side.

**MISSION: GO BACK HOME**

He hesitantly put the packets in his back pocket. "Thanks…"

He turned and started to leave again. He wasted enough time.

"Where are you going?" WR400 called.

"I'm going home," he called back. "Now leave me alone."

From this moment on, Connor decided he would avoid confrontation with anyone.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

This chapter. It was a rough one to write.

I think it's safe to say that if Connor gets home alive, he isn't going to be the same person again.

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading.

~Kurosaki


	10. Chapter 10

[TW: Suicidal thoughts]

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Shattered**

CAMERA STATUS DISABLED

ALARM SYSTEM DISABLED

A female clerk was sweeping a broom back and forth down the aisles, humming a tune to herself.

The glass door to the gas station slid open. The woman stopped sweeping and turned. It wasn't often that people came by this station after 9:30PM. They always complained about something or another.

She rested the broom against the wall and stepped forward. No one was around. When she thought about it, she hadn't even heard actual footsteps. It could've just been someone walking by. 11:00PM was the quiet hour. No one came around now.

HACKING LIGHT SYSTEMS…

…

She picked up her broom and seconds after, the lights started flickering. Then the lights completely shut off.

LIGHT SYSTEMS SUCCESSFULLY HACKED

Panic seemed to set in by that point. It got worse when she caught sight of a small blue light.

That was a mistake on his half. But it didn't matter as long as she didn't see his face. Even if she did see, that still didn't matter. He had all the power here. He watched as the clerk tried to make her way around the store, trying to find where the light was coming from.

He waited until she turned the corner. He silently made his way behind her and wrapped one arm around her throat and clamped his hand over her mouth to stop her from screaming. He ignored her fruitless tugging and pressed his arm tighter around her throat. It wasn't long until the struggle stopped and the clerk lost consciousness.

He set her down and sat her up against the wall.

He proceeded to go through the aisles. This was the third gas station he stopped by. There had to be some packets here. He only had one packet and a half since he left North Little Rock. After what happened in the Room of Horrors, he had no choice but to drink up and get replenished for his walk.

He walked around for a minute and a half and found nothing useful. He rubbed his forehead. He almost felt like an alcoholic. However, unlike an alcoholic, he needed thirium to survive.

Connor leaned against the counter and rested his elbows on them. He hid his face in his hand. He decided he didn't like when he wasn't successful in getting what he needed.

He walked out of the gas station and activated everything he shut off. He slipped on his only shoe and headed away from the station and down the street. He debated on where to go next. Not a gas station. Perhaps a convenience store. The problem with those was that there were usually more people.

He resisted the urge to shout in frustration.

* * *

"Help!"

Connor stopped halfway down the sidewalk.

It was 1:20AM. It was much too late for someone to be out. No normal person would be out this late. That's what he _hoped _for. It was the middle of winter. It was much colder at night during this season. Why anyone would want to go out this late was beyond him. He didn't want anyone to be outside.

This was such a hindrance and he only heard one word.

He kept going. He didn't have the time or patience to deal with this.

"SOMEBODY! HELP!"

_Stop._

His LED turned yellow. The problem was that the scream sounded genuine. The last time he heard _genuine screams_, they were a lure. He ended up in the cruelest place he had ever seen. He tried to block it out and he kept going on.

"PLEASE HELP!"

_Stop_. _Just shut up, damn it._

His LED blinked red but it was only for a second before going back to yellow. Then, he managed to get it back to blue. It was a feat.

None of this was his problem. He had nothing to do with this girl and her problems. Somebody else would come along. At the very least, someone would call the cops because of all the screams.

The shrieks continued. This went on for five minutes. There was a long, loud scream. It echoed in the night. Then…

Nothing.

Connor stopped again. His LED flared red. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He waited and listened for other noises. He couldn't hear much. Rather, he forced himself not to hear much. There was probably a lot of noise going on and he managed to block it out.

He waited for five minutes to pass. Then he turned around and walked to where the screams came from. It only took him a few blocks to find an alleyway where it took place. He stood at the entrance of the alley. His LED remained red.

A young lady, perhaps in her twenties, was lying on the concrete. Her body was partially exposed. Her throat was slit as were her wrists. He was grateful his pre-construction program stopped working. He didn't want to see any details. Something told him that this lady didn't have a chance.

CONTACTING 911…

…

UNABLE TO PUT THE CALL THROUGH

He tilted his head and his expression became duller than before. He could understand calls not going through if he attempted to contact Hank. He expected his communications to function properly in a town or city he was currently in. What a mess. In more ways than one.

He felt uncomfortable leaving a lady's body like this. If he had a jacket he would've put it over her; give her some dignity even in death. He lowered his gaze. He left the alleyway and went for a payphone. He could probably find some change along the way.

* * *

After he made the anonymous call, he found a different alleyway to hide away in. He sat on some crates. He pressed the side of his head against the brick building he was next to. It decently hid his still red LED.

None of this was his fault. He had more important things to do than help a lady ridiculous enough to be out at one in the morning. He wasn't a police officer. Not in this district. As such, no crimes committed were his business.

...He wondered if he could consider himself an officer at all.

He was willing to steal now. He didn't save someone in their time of need. He couldn't take care of himself properly.

He couldn't do anything right anymore. He was a poor excuse of an officer. He didn't deserve the title. He wondered if he deserved anything.

His shoulders sagged and he felt his heartbeat slow. He pulled his knees up to his chest and held them close. He rested his chin on his knees. He stared out at nothing. He was glad there were no mirrors around. He didn't want to see the mess that was his being.

**MISSION: GO BACK HOME**

Nothing that went on around him mattered.

Absolutely nothing.

* * *

He thought this forest was empty. That's what his map told him. Then again, his map didn't tell him if there were buildings in the area unless it was a town or city. It excluded forests and it annoyed Connor. He just wanted some privacy. It was bad enough he had screams bothering him every now and then. He didn't want to deal with more people.

As such, when he found a small cabin he wanted to get away as fast as possible. That is what he thought at first. Yet, he found himself walking to the building. All the lights were off and he came to the conclusion that the owner wasn't home.

He walked up on the porch and tested the door. It was locked and confirmed his theory. He went to the window. There didn't appear to be any locks. He grabbed the bottom and tugged it open. It was effortless and he felt bad for the owner. It was too easy for robbers to get in. If anyone aside from him found this place.

He hopped inside. He was in the kitchen and it almost reminded him of how he ended up in Hank's house for the first time. The only difference was that he didn't bust the window. This cabin was also much smaller. He moved around and flicked on a light switch lazily. He never thought he would break into someone's home like this with real intentions of stealing.

He made his way down the hallway and found the bedroom. He opened the closet at the far wall and started searching. He was lucky. There were mostly male clothes. He saw some smaller clothes but he wasted no time with them. He simply skimmed through the closet as if he was shopping legally.

Hank would be disappointed. But Hank didn't know that Connor needed clothes more so than this person did. He didn't plan on taking a lot. Only a jacket and maybe see if the extra shoes would fit. If they did, he would take them, too. That's it. It wasn't a serious heist.

Connor's LED flickered yellow.

He was suffering. He had been for the past two weeks. That's all these weeks were. Some days definitely worse than others. It wasn't fair that he was suffering while others went on with their days, happy-go-lucky and free and completely ignorant to the world around them. It wasn't fair.

He closed the closet. He went back and left the house after turning off the lights. He carefully closed the window and walked away from the cabin like nothing happened.

His LED shifted back to blue, though it wasn't completely steady.

* * *

Connor hopped into the back of a delivery truck. He wasn't completely sure what was in it but there was a chance of a few things he needed. He could use some new clothes, most preferably a jacket. He supposed his pants were fine, even if one of the pant legs were cut off. If it was a little higher he would look for new pants, but it was only the knee down. He also wouldn't mind some shoes.

There was also a bit of a chance there would be some thirium. All kinds of things were in delivery trucks. He could get lucky. He would also be sure not to take much. One or two packets of thirium and then a coat and shoes. If any of these things were available.

He was about to rip off the tap concealing one of the boxes when he was interrupted.

"Hey! Get away from there!"

Connor looked up.

A security guard, a human security guard, came scurrying up. He made sure to keep what Connor felt was a safe distance.

So much for not getting seen by anyone.

Connor only glared. His LED flickered red for a split second before settling on blue.

"Go on, get!" Security Guard rested his hand above the gun on his belt.

An unintentional low growl made its way up Connor's throat.

Security Guard was slow, purposefully slow, Connor noticed, when removing his gun from his belt. The moment he aimed it, Connor jumped out of the truck and tackled him, damaged body be damned.

The gun went off but in a different direction. Security Guard tried to shove Connor off. Connor ignored that and forced the gun out of Security Guard's hand and threw it away. That's when he allowed him to shove him off.

Connor crawled to the gun quickly, grabbed it, twisted his body around and pulled the trigger.

* * *

Two other security guards ran up to the delivery truck when they saw their co-worker on the ground, bleeding. There was white fabric wrapped around his bleeding leg.

"What happened?" one asked in a hurry.

The other went to dialing 911.

"Nothing…"

"This isn't _nothing_!" the one on the phone said. "You were shot!"

"I was careless. That's all," Security Guard groaned and gripped his leg rougher.

He couldn't get the image of the disturbed android out of his head.

He owed it for not killing him.

* * *

That was another poor heist. Not only did he shoot someone but there was nothing of interest in the delivery truck. There was no point at all. He completely wasted his time on false hope that something would be on his side.

Things stopped being on his side a long time ago, he realized.

He remained on his back on the roof and stared blankly at the sky. It was the first clear day in a while. He wanted it to make him feel better, maybe ease his mind knowing he wouldn't have to worry about rain. Instead, he couldn't get rid of the dull feeling that overwhelmed him.

There was no point in anything. Everything was just so exhausting. He knew he couldn't do anything right before, but now after two failed heists from someone's house and now a truck, he was officially convinced he couldn't do anything right.

These were easy things but he couldn't pull them off. He should've been able to handle simple things.

His systems stuttered. He rested his hand on his stomach and his gaze became duller, if that was even possible. His self-repairs program stopped working a long time ago. He realized this when he saw there were still minor injuries from _that man_. The memories from the Room of Horrors would never go away. He was still haunted by the screams, by the things he saw in that room.

He sighed.

_Maybe dying wouldn't be so bad...If I can just get rid of all these memories forever…_

He didn't care if he would go to nothing. Nothing meant no memories. He didn't want to forget everything in his life, of course. He always wanted to remember Hank and the good times. But it felt like there was nothing but horror. He wanted it to go away forever.

He turned on his side. He was fine with dying. However, he had to get home first. He wanted to get home and be in Hank's arms one last time. Then, unless things changed, he didn't mind if he died after getting home.

"I'm sorry, Hank…"

He was going to make it home first. He wanted to keep that promise no matter what.

* * *

It wasn't a good idea to break into a warehouse.

But how was he supposed to know there would be a large mirror hanging on the wall? He wouldn't have gone in at all if he knew that. He wanted to avoid looking at himself at all costs. Once he saw himself, he realized he wouldn't be able to stop.

His reflection...He wondered if he should call it his.

His body was a mess. He already knew what to expect from his right arm and leg. He knew they would look bad, especially now that the bandage around his arm was gone. He could see some wires protruding out of the wrist. There were also scrapes and minor bruising.

His face had bruises scattered here and there. His hair was disheveled. The slit on his throat from _that man_ was still visible. He didn't care how pale it was, it was still there and it was still a reminder.

His eyes looked down at his shirt. It was a train wreck; tattered, dirty, sleeveless, a bullet hole. His jeans were no different. They weren't as torn, though. It was just his right pant-leg that was the worst. They were most certainly dirty, though. He also noticed he lost his other shoe.

Connor looked back up to his face. He wondered if it was his face.

It most certainly wasn't the _Deviant Hunter_. That was long gone. It was dead now. There was no way it would be able to come back.

However…

There wasn't much left that was _Connor_, either. There was very little Connor recognized of himself.

Connor decided he was tainted.

He wondered if Hank would want him back in his life. He was nowhere near the same person. Even his eyes were dull, much duller than Connor thought. They were only the same colour. That was it. There wasn't as much emotion that Hank would want; Connor knew that.

He pressed his scraped hand against the mirror.

He lowered his gaze. His heartbeat slowed again like how it did in that alleyway.

There wasn't a point in being alive if Hank didn't want him.

"Please, don't hate me, Hank…"

He lowered himself on his knees and pressed his forehead against the mirror. He just wanted to be with Hank again.

* * *

Most of Connor's programs stopped working. He could barely open his map. It was a glitchy mess and he could barely read it. Something he wanted to work was his calendar. He wanted to know just how long he had been gone for. He knew it had been two weeks at the very least, and maybe that was him just trying to be hopeful.

Connor had been trudging through the forest and headed to where his map told him the fastest way to Detroit. He didn't want to be anywhere near a city or town. He didn't want to be near the road, either. There was a low possibility someone would pick him up, but he still didn't want to take that chance.

He had little faith in his abilities to fight. He decided he was weak and powerless and he had no control. He couldn't risk anything, not after having walked so many miles and still needing to walk so many more.

He stepped out of the forest and found himself facing a nightmare.

"No...No, no, no…"

His map led him to something he wouldn't be able to conquer. He stepped forward.

"Please don't do this to me, world."

Connor was able to cross rivers. He had to be extremely careful but he could still cross them.

"You can't do this…_Please_…"

Connor wouldn't be able to surpass a _lake_.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

Connor's in quite the tough spot right now, in more ways than one. He needs a hug. A hug from Hank preferably.

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the next chapter. (Just two more).

Thanks for reading.

~Kurosaki


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven: I'd Walk 500 Miles, and I'd Walk 500 More**

His map was glitchy beyond all belief by this point but he tried to open it anyway. He tried to see if there was a way around it. He looked the best he could and he couldn't see any way around it. It was the large lake or nothing. Rather, he would have to go into the city and see about a ride or something. He couldn't do that. For more reasons than simply not wanting to be seen.

This lake, according to the map that was now unreadable, was a shortcut to Detroit. It was the only shortcut there was. If he tried going through the city and road like he had been many days prior, the 'shortcuts' would not be short because his injuries would make it twice as long.

He paced back and forth. It wasn't just a matter of swimming. It was also the fact that it was winter. The water would be freezing. It would freeze up his insides if he swam. It would be especially bad if he panicked and ended up sinking. He wouldn't be able to get back up to the top.

His heartbeat picked up, his systems started to heat up. He couldn't think straight.

He knew he was dying. He had been dying for a while and he was fine with it. He couldn't die until he got home, though. The past few weeks had been unfair, but this was especially unfair. This was the shortest way he could find and it was the most dangerous in his current condition.

If he attempted to swim, he wouldn't make it out alive.

He backed away from the water and collapsed onto his knees. He gripped his head and started hyperventilating.

He was still _many _miles off. He knew that for a fact. This was going to make it shorter, though. That's what it was supposed to do. He couldn't do this. He wouldn't survive. He was getting so close; this was the closest he got to Detroit.

This was not fair.

He worked so hard to get this close. He worked _so hard_\- had been through so much hell, had done things he thought he would never do, and experienced things he never thought he would experience.

It felt like it was all for nothing.

Tears streamed down his face.

He screamed.

* * *

Light rain and hail pelted Connor's curled form.

He hadn't moved from the lake since his freak out. He couldn't bring himself to look at the icy water. Instead, he stared at the dirty ground beneath him. He wrote 'home' multiple times in the dirt and considered finding something sharp so he could write it into his arm. It wasn't like his self-repairs could get rid of the reminder.

He knew he shouldn't have despaired as much as he did, not in his current condition. It did nothing for his situation, both mental and physical. It only proceeded to wear him out further.

It had been at least three hours since his moment of weakness. All his programs refused to work, no matter how hard he pushed. It was getting harder and harder to ignore stasis. Rather, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the shutdown timer. He could push it away, yes, but it still popped up now and then.

Connor was not just walking home anymore, he realized. He was also walking straight to Death's door. Death would have to wait a little while longer, though. If Hank could wait for him for an outrageously long amount of time, Death could also wait.

Eventually, he pulled himself up and ran his hand through his hair. His dull eyes roamed around the lake. It was so wide. It stretched so long and far and he felt so small looking at it. He went to rub his hands together but stopped midway. Things felt so awkward with only one hand. He rubbed at his eyes.

He headed back into the forest and walked aimlessly. It wasn't as if it mattered where he went or how long it took him to get there now. He would probably come across a city or town and who knows what would happen then. He still wanted to avoid people as much as possible, android or human.

Connor hummed a tune to himself.

_I'd walk 500 miles_

_ And I would walk 500 more_

_ Just to be that android who walked 1000 miles_

_ The one who made it back home._

He had to revise the words to suit his situation. He couldn't remember where he heard that song. He hoped it would encourage him to keep going. He didn't feel any more motivated but having lyrics run through his head made not entering stasis easier. A busy mind meant a distraction for stasis.

No stasis meant faster progress.

Now he just had to do something about the lake.

He probably should've ignored that thought, for it filled him with dread again.

* * *

He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them. He sat in an isolated alleyway in another small town. It was still close to the lake, the thing he wouldn't be able to pass on his own. He didn't plan on going to anyone. He would figure out something on his own. He had no choice. He just knew he couldn't swim. There had to be something.

It had to be soon, too. He couldn't waste days on this. Maybe he could waste one but no more than that. It was too risky.

He wanted to call Hank. He wanted Hank to tell him the right things. He wanted his advice. He would know what to do, what to say. He always did.

_Tell me what to do._

He carefully stood, pressing his hand against the wall to support himself. Sitting and sulking wouldn't do him any good. Neither did a majority of what was going through his mind did either. He wished he could turn most of his thoughts off; turn them all off except the mission pop-up.

But that would be dangerous.

He strolled through the outskirts of the town until it was 6:40PM. That was when luck decided to be on his side. There had been two men smoking outside near a bar while Connor was roaming around. He stopped the moment he heard 'fishing'.

Fishing usually meant at least one thing. Boats. A boat meant he could cross the lake safely. He stayed in the safety of the dark alley and continued to listen to the men talking.

"Who goes this time of year? It's the middle of winter!" One said.

"That old man," Two said, blankly. "At least he isn't crazy and going fly fishing. He's using the boat."

"He's seriously going to use that old _row boat_?" One asked, disbelieving.

"Seems that way," Two said. "He isn't all stupid, I guess. He's going tomorrow afternoon, when it's supposed to be sunny."

"I guess there's some brains in there."

Connor leaned against the chain link fence and looked down. So, there was a minor time limit. He either had to get that boat tonight or get it before the owner had the chance. There was also another problem.

He had no directions.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

The things he had to do to get home.

* * *

He had to wait until much later than he wanted. It was almost midnight when he made his move.

While One walked down the street, presumably to his home, Connor stalked up behind him. Like the store clerk from so many days ago, he wrapped his arm around One's throat and clamped his hand over his mouth.

This victim was a bit more resilient, understandably, considering his bigger size. To prevent any potential attention, Connor dragged One into an alleyway. He pressed his arm harder in the process and tried to keep the male as still as possible. He was frustrated that One actually took longer than he wanted for him to lose consciousness.

Maybe if Connor was a human it would have been worse. Then again, if he was a human, he would be dead. He wouldn't have even been able to get out of the Room of Horrors.

He sighed and looked around. An alleyway would be fine for an interrogation but at the same time, it was much too risky. Anyone could walk by and see what was going on and that would ruin all of his efforts.

He would have to find an abandoned building.

* * *

It took until 1:30AM for One to wake up, much to Connor's growing frustration. It took him long enough to find a good enough building. He didn't want to waste more time waiting for this human to wake up. He couldn't wake him up on his own, though. He didn't want to be seen. As such, he sat on the ledge above where One sat tied on a creaky chair on the floor below.

"Shit, what the fuck?" One tried breaking free but couldn't do so.

"You'll be okay," Connor said, calmly. "As long as you give me honest answers."

"Who's there? Who the fuck are you?" One asked, looking around. The anger didn't worry Connor.

"It doesn't matter who I am," Connor said, blankly. "I'm going to let you go. I just want-"

"Come and face me like a man!"

Connor rubbed his temple. Humans were stubborn.

"I heard you talking with your friend earlier," Connor started, "you mentioned something about a man going fishing on a row boat."

One scoffed loudly. "That's what you kidnapped me for? Let me go!"

"I will," Connor said. "Just tell me where I can find the boat."

"Why should I?"

"That's the only way I'll let you go," Connor said. He shrugged. "I can't waste a lot of time, buddy. Tell me where it is."

"What are you going to do to the man who owns it, huh?" One asked, still trying to look around. The idiot didn't think of looking up. "You gonna do this to him too? Gonna hurt him? Kill him?"

"You ask a lot of questions." Connor did his best to keep his voice calm, but it was getting harder and harder with One's stubbornness.

"I'm not telling you anything! Not if you're gonna hurt someone else!"

"Oh, so you have standards."

"Fuck you!"

Connor sighed. "Tell me where the boat is. I won't hurt the man."

He would only resort to violence if he had no choice. He didn't want to ambush anyone else. It was quite tiresome. He also wanted to try and keep his morals in check. He didn't want to fall into complete darkness.

One went silent and stopped struggling. He huffed, dramatically. "It's near the outside of the town."

That was too vague.

"Give me directions," Connor said, lowly.

"No," One denied. He snickered. "That's all you're getting."

Connor closed his eyes and sighed. "Alright, buddy…"

He jumped from the ledge. He picked up a sharp piece of broken off steel and walked up behind One. He wrapped his arm around One's eyes and pressed the shard against his throat.

"_Directions_."

This seemed to scare One a bit too much. Connor's patience was out the window by this point. He pressed the steel a little harder against One's throat, drawing some blood.

"_DIRECTIONS NOW!_"

* * *

Connor found a cabin near the edge of the lake ten minutes out of town, completely away from where he had first found the river. There was a dock a few feet away from the cabin where an old row boat was sitting on the water.

It was 10:00AM and _cloudy_.

He walked up to the dock and rested his hand on one of the wooden poles. The only time he used a row boat was when he was in the Zen Garden. Back then, he was stable. Back then, he had a limited space. Back then, he was all put together and could row just fine. Now, Connor had none of those things. All he had was determination to go home.

He stepped onto the dock and immediately regretted it.

A bell went off.

He stepped back onto the grass and cursed. It looked much too casual for an alarm to have been put somewhere. He came to the conclusion that there was something in the poles that he didn't see.

A few moments later, rushed footsteps came his way. When Connor turned, the old man he was told about stopped a few feet in front of him. At first, Old Man seemed defensive- angry. Then, his eyes had widened for a moment and his body seemed to loosen. He looked confused more than anything now.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Old Man asked, looking him up and down.

Connor looked back and forth between Old Man and the boat. He bit his lip for a moment. He shrugged.

"Kid?"

"I…" he trailed off and thought for a moment. He sighed. There was no point in lying. "I need your boat, Old Man."

"You need my boat?" Old Man sounded more confused now.

"I'm trying to get back home," Connor explained. "Crossing this lake is the fastest shortcut I've found. But I'm in no condition to swim, as you can see."

Old Man frowned and looked Connor up and down some more, as if that would give him confirmation. If anyone thought he was in the proper condition to swim, they were crazy. He could barely walk properly anymore. The limp was becoming worse and worse as the trudge home continued.

"Where is 'home'?" Old Man asked.

Questions when he was in the middle of something were bothersome. That's what Connor decided. It took his best not to snap, not to say he had little to no time.

"Detroit, Michigan."

Old Man's eyes widened again. "All the way in Detroit? What are you doing so far away?"

"I would rather not share the story," Connor said. He fiddled with the wires sticking out of his arm. "Please, Old Man, I really need your boat."

Old man furrowed his brows. Connor really didn't want to have to hurt this man just to get his way. He did seem friendly enough. He was also human and so he had to have some empathy in him somewhere.

"What happened to you, kid?"

_ So many questions._

"It's a long story," Connor said, trying to keep his voice even. "All that matters is going home."

"What's your name?"

_For the love of-_

"...Anderson."

This was probably the only chance he would get to say it. He didn't care if it wasn't official or if it may not ever get official. The likelihood of getting to say this again was little to none.

"Connor Anderson," he said, nodding. He caved. "I have been through hell these past three weeks. I have seen and experienced things that no one should have to see or experience."

Before Old Man could say anything or ask more questions, Connor continued.

"My d…_best friend_ was forced to throw me away. I couldn't even tell him I was going to come back because I was too stressed and scared and hurt."

It was something he very much regretted.

"I've walked around five hundred miles and I still need to walk five hundred or so more," Connor said. His LED flickered between yellow and red. "But crossing this lake, with a boat, will shorten all those miles. I'll still have to walk many more but…"

"But this will help," Old Man finished.

Connor nodded.

"Please, you have to help me." He sounded much weaker than he meant to. "I have nowhere else to go. Nothing else to resort to…"

Old Man's eyes softened. Connor tilted his head and waited. He would've tried a kicked puppy look but couldn't manage it. It felt like it would be too much effort and that in of itself was sad.

"I understand."

Connor's LED flickered blue. "You'll help me?"

"I don't think I'll be able to live with myself if I stopped someone from going home," Old Man said, nodding. He went on to say, "even if you don't make it home, I won't be able to live with myself if you ended up dying."

Connor wanted to smile but again, it felt like too much effort. His body did loosen up a bit. "Thank you, Old Man."

After that, Old Man assisted Connor in getting in the boat. He felt uncomfortable, sitting inside, especially when it rocked a bit. Old Man gave him reassurance that it was nothing to worry about. Connor would just have to take his word for it. He helped push the boat away from the dock and waved as Connor left.

"Go home, Connor!"

* * *

Connor laid on his back and looked up at the sky. It was dark and cloudy and the wind picked up. He did his best not to worry when the boat rocked. He had his hand rested on his stomach and he would take light breaths to try and calm himself.

It had been a few hours since he left the dock. It felt like this lake would never end. It shortened his miles, though. He had to appreciate that, no matter how long it would take him to get across.

Unfortunately, something came up that he didn't expect, something he wasn't warned about. He didn't know if Old Man kept it out on purpose or if he just forgot about it.

He sat up when the boat rocked much too aggressively. He turned and looked ahead of him where there was some kind of currents or rapids waiting for him. He backed up to the furthest end of the boat. He looked around frantically for something to grab onto, for something he could stop himself from continuing on his path.

He was too far in and away from any possible broken off branches or logs for him to grab onto. Instead, he just grabbed onto the sides of the boat and prayed that maybe that would keep him on and prayed the boat wouldn't flip over.

Nothing went his way.

That's just how life was.

Wood and boulders slammed into each other. Water splashed and sprayed everywhere. Connor tried to straighten the boat into a clearer path. It only ended up moving wayword and bumped into more boulders. Freezing cold water splashed all over his vision and he couldn't see well enough to try and guide his boat.

He flipped over and sunk into the lake. Water poured into his mouth before he could shut it to protect his insides from soaking up and freezing. He tried to fight against the current, tried to get back up to the top. He mostly stayed where he was deep in the water or would sink further.

Connor tried flailing his arms and legs to get up to the top and tried to find something to grab onto. There were only round boulders that he couldn't grab onto. His leg also felt like it was slowly disconnecting.

_Please...If there's really rA9 or a human god- __**anything**__...I need help…_

* * *

"-This is my _son_, Connor Anderson."

Hank Anderson was on the news broadcast. He held up a photo of Connor. The boy wore his Cyberlife issued uniform. He almost looked surprised, as if the photo was last minute.

Androids and humans tuned in on their TVs or watched on the broadcast outside, walking to the large screens.

"He's still gone. He's been missing for three weeks," Hank Anderson continued.

His blue eyes were sorrowful. His voice was broken. He looked like he barely got out of bed.

"The last time he was seen was on a train headed to Houston, Texas."

Some androids' LEDs turned yellow.

"If anyone has seen him or knows where he is, please contact the Detroit Police Department." Hank Anderson's hank shook as he tried to keep the photo visible.

Androids looked at each other. Humans stared at their TVs with curious looks or looks of sympathy.

"Connor, if _you_ can hear me, I just want you to know that I don't care if you're the one who did it. I just want to know you're safe. I want you home." Hank Anderson's voice shook and tears welled in his eyes. He tried to keep his head held high. "I'll always be waiting for you. I promise."

The broadcast ended.

* * *

Connor barely managed to wrap his hand around the log he was forced into. He pulled himself up out of the water and immediately coughed out as much as possible. He blinked to clear his vision. He dragged himself along the log to the pebbly shore. His movements were stiff and he found it hard to keep pulling himself.

When his knees landed on the ground, he let go of the log and collapsed on his side. He panted aggressively. He coughed again, hoping to get more water out. Then, he lifted himself the best he could and continued to drag himself onto the shore.

Once he was completely out of the water, he sat a bit straighter and looked at his leg. He sighed.

It was barely hanging on by a few wires. The cut had gotten longer and the skin around the area was hardly there anymore. He examined his right arm next. It was still in decent shape. There were only some new cracks where some wires slightly jutted out, sparking now and then. He gingerly fingered the back of his head. The slight crack he had expanded just a little from when his head slammed into the log.

Connor pulled himself up on his feet…

Then collapsed.

* * *

_"Connor, if you can hear me, I just want you to know that I don't care if you're the one who did it. I just want to know you're safe. I want you home. I'll always be waiting for you. I promise."_

AX400 looked up at the TV hanging on the wall. She pointed to it quickly when she saw the photo. "Look! It's the android from three weeks ago!"

ST300 blinked. "Oh, I guess he hasn't gone home yet."

AX400 frowned. "I wonder if he's okay…" she mumbled. She turned to ST300. "Come on, he'll probably need all the support he can get. He might not be able to hear us, but maybe he will feel our support!"

ST300 and AX400 left the store. They stood out in the middle of the street. They held hands.

"We have to say it loud and together," AX400 said. "That's probably the only way."

"Okay, here we go-"

* * *

_"Connor, if you can hear me, I just want you to know that I don't care if you're the one who did it. I just want to know you're safe. I want you home. I'll always be waiting for you. I promise."_

"Your Highness?" Mister blinked owlishly, looking up at the outdoor broadcast.

His customer looked up at the large screen. "You know that android?"

"Yeah...I met him so many weeks ago," Mister said. He frowned. "I guess he hasn't made it home yet…"

It was a shame that he didn't know if Connor was even alive. Aside from his leg, he did seem to be in a decent state. Anything could happen though.

"He'll probably need all the support he can get if he's alive," Mister said, putting a hand on his chin.

He looked up and stood in the middle of the street. "Gotta be as loud as possible-"

* * *

"_Connor, if you can hear me, I just want you to know that I don't care if you're the one who did it. I just want to know you're safe. I want you home. I'll always be waiting for you. I promise."_

"I didn't know anyone was waiting for him," PL600 sighed.

"Does it make a difference?" WR600 asked, raising a brow.

"If I knew someone was waiting, I wouldn't have poisoned him," he answered. "It's cruel to the one waiting."

"What do we do?" AP700 asked.

"If he's still alive and going on, he'll need as much support as possible," PL600 said. He stood. "Let's go outside and give it to him."

"After what happened? It could've killed us-"

"But he didn't" PL600 interrupted. He turned to his two men. "We owe him some support."

PL600 went outside and stood out in the middle of the road. WR600 and AP700 followed him. They stood beside their boss and looked at him, waiting for his order.

"We have to say it as loud as possible and together," PL600 said. "Okay, let's do it-"

* * *

_"Connor, if you can hear me, I just want you to know that I don't care if you're the one who did it. I just want to know you're safe. I want you home. I'll always be waiting for you. I promise."_

"Margie, look!" Roy called, looking to the kitchen. "Sonny is on the TV."

Margaret put the dishes down and walked into the living room. She frowned. "I guess he still hasn't made it…"

"And he was so determined," Roy said. He frowned. "Why don't get give him support? Even if he can't hear us."

"Let's go outside and do it, then," Margaret said, going straight for the door. "That way, there's a better chance he'll hear us."

Roy followed his wife outside. They stepped quite a few ways into their yard and held hands.

"We have to be loud!" Roy said, determined. "Let's do it-"

* * *

_"Connor, if you can hear me, I just want you to know that I don't care if you're the one who did it. I just want to know you're safe. I want you home. I'll always be waiting for you. I promise."_

In the bar at North Little Rock, everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and looked at the TV in the corner of the room on the wall. It was mostly the androids that were amazed, but some of the humans seemed interested in the broadcast.

"It's our hero!" WR400 said, smiling.

"He's the bravest android alive!"

"I guess he hasn't made it home yet," Bartender said, wiping up a mug. "It's a shame after all he's been through."

WR400 frowned. "That's not fair." She looked around the bar. "Come on, if he's still alive he'll need a lot of support!"

She walked outside and the other android patrons followed her, along with some humans and even Bartender. WR400 led them to the middle of the road. She looked to the large group behind her. She looked determined and was glad there were many supporters.

"We have to be as loud as possible," she said. She turned again. "All together now-"

* * *

"_**GO HOME, CONNOR!**_"

* * *

Something strange swelled in his chest. He wasn't sure what it was.

Connor's eyes slowly opened. It was a feat to keep them open. His body shook. His LED was a dull red. He hadn't stood since he collapsed on his side. It had gotten much darker now. He couldn't calculate if it had only been a few hours or if it had been days.

He groaned and forced himself on his knees. He gripped his forehead. He took a deep breath. Instead of how he tried to get up more quickly and carelessly, he stood slowly and didn't force himself to stand straight.

He swayed on his feet but he didn't try to move out of his spot. He closed his eyes. Being careless was no longer an option, no matter how desperate he was to get home. He would try to find a way to hurry but not push himself if he felt like he would collapse again.

He waited five minutes before he started to leave. It was a strange walk. His limp was the worst it had ever been and he was practically dragging his leg now.

It was _snowing_.

* * *

"I'd walk 500 miles…"

His voice was static-y. It wasn't too bad but he did cause him to flinch.

"...And I'd walk 500 more…"

The snow collected on his body as he trudged on. He stopped trying to clear his vision, nothing came from it. He couldn't be 100% sure if he was even going in the right direction to Detroit. He had thought of trying a different direction and yet he couldn't bring himself to do so. He kept walking ahead. He never changed his course.

"Just to be that android...who walked 1000 miles…"

He stumbled over a dead, snow covered bush. He silently cursed at it. He looked ahead again and kept going.

"The one who...made it back home…"

And to Death's door.

Home first.

Then Death.

* * *

A child looked out the window of her passenger seat while the car drove itself. She wiped the fog off the window.

"Mom, that lump of snow looks kinda weird…" she said, pointing at the side of the road where something lay in the forestry.

"It's probably just a bush, dear," her mother said, amused.

"Really? It looks kind of..._flat_ to be a bush…"

* * *

Connor had to take breaks from time to time and lie down. Sometimes he lied down for a bit too long but he couldn't let himself get worn out. Rather, get more worn out than he already was. He had to do everything possible to keep his leg connected to his body. It would make the trek that much slower.

Sometimes, instead of standing again, he dragged himself. It was a bit bothersome when he dragged himself onto the side of the road. There was more ice there than in the forestry. It almost stung, despite his shirt somehow having remained closed. This was still better than losing his leg.

He could only drag himself a couple miles for a couple minutes before he had to stop. He curled in on himself and closed his eyes. He let the snow collect on his body.

He only allowed himself to wait fifteen minutes before he dragged again. He didn't want to stand just yet, perhaps a bit paranoid about his leg's condition. Maybe even Hank would call him out for being paranoid about it.

Connor stopped dragging when he noticed something in the darkness.

His LED was not the only thing providing light.

He shifted on his side and looked up. His LED went from red to yellow. He smiled softly.

"Those are...really beautiful lights…"

They were the city lights Connor had been working so hard to get back to.

**MISSION: G-**

**SHUTDOWN IN: 01:00:04**

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

Whoo-boy. I have been wanting to write the "Go home, Connor!" moment for so long.

Also, there were so many different ways the conversation with Old Man could've gone. I had a few different versions but went with this one. It suited it best, I think.

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll in the final chapter.

Thanks for reading!

~Kurosaki


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: Connor's Come Home**

He was still a few miles off, he knew. But he was halfway there. He almost thought there would never be a point where he got this close to Detroit. He thought he wouldn't see those familiar city lights again.

He carefully pulled himself up on his feet. He had to wait a moment for his systems to settle. He couldn't get overwhelmed now or he would collapse again. He stood for only ten seconds before he began his walk. Rather, it was more like he was dragging himself. Only one foot worked properly. The other dragged behind him, leaving a strange snow trail of just one footprint and line.

He did his best to ignore his shutdown timer. He would have enough time to drag himself to Detroit and to the DPD. As long as there were no distractions.

While he dragged, he thought of what Hank might think of him. He was nowhere near the same person as when he left. Both physically and mentally. There was a chance Hank would not want the 'new Connor'.

Connor decided he would cross that bridge when it came. All that mattered was that he was almost there.

Originally, he thought he would be full of joy and excitement when arriving in Detroit. He thought he would actually act like a silly little child- bounce up and down and say, _"suck it, world!"_ Because he had made it back home. The world did not want him to make it, but he did.

**MISSION: GO BACK HOME**

After he would be done acting like a silly child, he would've collected himself. He would've straightened his jacket and adjusted his tie. He would hold his head high, have eyes full of confidence, and he would walk with long and strong strides full of pride.

It took him fifteen minutes for him to enter Detroit's entrance and get passed the welcome sign.

**MISSION SUCCESSFUL**

He almost wanted to collapse then and there.

He walked one thousand miles. He had been through hell. He barely managed to get out of cities alive. Now, here he was. He finally had his pay off. He was finally back in the city where he was born and raised in.

However, he wasn't completely paid off, not yet. There was one last thing he had to do. Then, then it would be all over. He could finally rest in peace.

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:17:02**

That would hopefully be enough time for him to get to the police station. He did his best not to get his hopes up. He tried to take it one slow drag at a time. He tried to imagine Hank again, how the man would react to seeing him after weeks of silence.

He wanted Hank to be shocked and then relieved. He wanted Hank to tell him that, even though he was not the same, he was still welcome.

**MISSION: GO TO POLICE STATION**

Hank Anderson would still be there at this time.

* * *

"Stop! Stop the car!" a young woman yelled at her friend, eyes wide as she looked out the window.

Her friendly quickly slammed the breaks at her friend's urgency. "What? What's...Jesus…"

Both women exited the car and walked forward a couple steps.

Others also pulled over and looked to watch. Some people exited stores to see what was happening. People already outside looked on with wide eyes.

A lone android dragged himself down the side of the street.

His eyes were dull, yet they held some determination in them.

He appeared as though he had walked straight out of the junkyard. One leg dragged behind him and sparked. His right hand was missing; wires stuck and sparked out of certain areas of his arm.

His shirt was torn beyond belief and dirty as were his pants. Bruises and scrapes littered his body. Certain areas of his body, like his arm and leg, had his skin go in and out. His hair was utterly disheveled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. His LED was yellow.

"No way…"

"Oh my god-"

"_Connor?!_"

Snow fell gently from the sky. It invaded Connor's vision. He refused to blink, knowing there was a chance he may not be able to open his eyes again- that he may collapse and be unable to get up.

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:11:00**

More time passed than he had thought. He thought he had been dragging himself at a decent pace, a fast enough pace to get him to the station in time. He did his best to somewhat find the strength to go faster, even if it was only a little bit. A little bit was better than nothing.

He ignored the onlookers.

He dragged.

"Look at that."

"I can't believe it…"

"This whole time I thought we were looking for a dead body."

"He looks so broken…"

The time was 6:15PM.

"You know right where he's going."

"You can do it, Connor!"

He said nothing.

There was a clap. And then another clap. And another. Then there was a whole round of them, slow and encouraging. The onlookers followed him a few feet behind. Some continued to say words of excitement- cheered him on. Some recorded with whatever devices they had. Some took photos.

"Shouldn't someone take him to a repair center first?"

"Oh, but he's walked so far to see his Lieutenant…"

"You're almost there!"

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:07:10**

If only the encouraging words and noises would make him move faster.

His vision went in and out, despite keeping his eyes open. The snow wasn't helping. However, Connor had walked down this street one too many times to know it was the right way to go.

**MISSION: GO TO POLICE STATION**

_Wait for me, Hank..._

Even if he only got one minute, even if he only had a few seconds, that would be enough.

Connor collapsed on his front with a grunt, his foot having landed on a sheet of ice. He groaned. His LED turned red. He gritted his teeth. His body shook aggressively.

"Get up! You have to get up!"

"Come on! Hurry!"

He pulled himself back up slowly, stood still for a couple seconds, then dragged on. His LED went back to yellow.

_Wait for me…I'm halfway there..._

Hank waited this long. He could have the patience to wait a couple minutes longer. Connor would also have to find it in him to try and be patient.

He decided the people and noises around him were distracting, even if they were trying to encourage him. He did his best to tune them out. He kept his eyes solely focused ahead of him. He didn't need to read street signs. He just needed to see that building. Once he saw that building, he would be at ease.

As he dragged himself, he didn't fail to notice that his movements were getting slower. He didn't fail to notice his shutdown timer was going down faster. It was getting harder to push away, harder to ignore.

He came this far. All he had to do was hold on a little while longer. He had to pray on that he would make it, like he had been trying to do from the start.

He knew a couple more minutes passed and when he did, he noticed that the footsteps stopped. The clapping didn't. It was still going. Connor didn't need to look up to see that he found the building he was walking towards.

**MISSION: GO TO POLICE STATION**

Connor entered through the sliding doors. He was immediately smacked with a heatwave.

**MISSION SUCCESSFUL**

He remained silent as he made his way through the reception area.

Before looking up, one of the receptionists started to say, "can I hel…" she trailed off and her eyes, Connor assumed, were wide just like everyone else's. "Connor…"

He ignored her and ignored everyone else who stared at him as he continued his way into the bullpen.

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:01:00**

He blinked the notification away.

The bullpen had been busy. Connor could hear that with the officers typing away and some people chatting on the phones.

He could no longer see properly. His vision was too blurry, too static-filled. He stopped moving and stared ahead.

The bullpen had been stunned into silence.

No one dared moved or said anything. They only stared. It was as if time had stopped for them.

Connor's eyes slowly roamed around. His vision was blurry but he could still make out who he wanted the most.

Hank Anderson sat at his desk, facing his computer. He didn't seem to notice the abrupt change in atmosphere. Connor wondered if it was on purpose. He doubted it. Surprisingly enough, he may have just been too caught up in whatever it was he was doing.

Perhaps he was looking at a missing persons' website. That was, if Connor had even been on one in the first place.

"H...Han...k…"

His voice was rather static-y and much too quiet. Even he barely heard.

"H-Hank…" He tried again, tried raising his voice. He cleared his throat, a human trait he knew, and did his best. "Hank..._Hank…!_"

Finally, his voice was loud enough. Hank seemed to freeze, just like everyone else. Then he turned towards him. Connor tried to clear his vision to see Hank's expression better. It hardly worked. From how everyone else reacted, he could only assume he also stared on with disbelief at the sight.

Hank stood slowly and took slow steps to stand in front of Connor.

No one else moved.

"Oh my god…" Hank whispered. Connor could tell he was looking at him up and down. "Connor…"

Connor's LED cycled blue at long last. It took a lot of effort, but he managed a soft smile.

"H-Hank...I did...it," Connor said. "I...kept my...promise…"

Hank said nothing. He reached forward and pulled Connor into a tight embrace. Connor wrapped his good arm around him. He clutched onto the fabric of Hank's warm, soft coat.

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:00:06**

Tears gently slid down his cheeks. He buried his face in Hank's shoulder. He tried to concentrate on his heartbeat.

It was such a beautiful sound.

"I...I'm h-home…"

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:00:05**

Hank didn't release his hold. He rocked him back and forth, like he was trying to soothe a child.

Connor's grip loosened.

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:00:04**

Connor's body started to slacken.

Being in Hank's arms, he realized he was still wanted.

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:00:03**

"Welcome home, son…"

Connor's eyes slid shut. He could no longer hold onto Hank.

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:00:02**

Connor's LED started to fade.

Being in Hank's arms, he realized-

**SHUTDOWN IN: 00:00:01**

-He was still loved.

**00:00:00**

* * *

Warmth, a comforting warmth, spread all over his body. He was laying on something soft, something that tickled his bare skin, like his hands and the back of his neck. His arms were spread out, welcoming whatever void he was soon going to fall into. He was just waiting for this soft ground to crumble.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but the ground beneath him did not crumble. It remained the same, soft and comfortable. The only reason it was dark was because his eyes were shut.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. He immediately had to shut them again, a bright light bombarding his vision. Before opening his eyes again, he was smart enough to hover his hand over his eyes.

When he felt it was safe, he lowered his hand. He blinked. This was the first time in a long time he had seen the sun. For most of the time he was gone, the sun had been hidden behind clouds. It peaked through once in a while and there had been a day or two, but for the most part, the sun was gone.

He sat up, leaning back on the palms of his hands.

He was not surprised that he had his limbs intact. He was not surprised that he was back to normal. It was something he expected after death. That was the one and only thing he was sure of when death came.

What he was surprised with was his surroundings. This was not _nothing_. _Nothing _would not be so…

"Beautiful…"

Lush, fresh green grass was everywhere. Different kinds of flowers, many except roses, were among the soft grass. The field was never ending. It stretched on and on. There were beautiful trees also in the mix.

The sky was blue and clear. There were no clouds in sight. The only thing in the sky was the sun he never thought he would see again. There was a slight warm breeze.

He stood and started walking, his eyes roaming all over the area. He saw a pond nearby with the occasional fish jumping in and out. The water was fresh and clear, unlike the recent water he had come across.

He stopped and closed his eyes.

All this time during his walk home and even before his walk home, he always thought he would end up in nothing. He always thought he would end up in a dark, never ending void. He wouldn't be able to see anything but darkness. It would be cold, even if his clothes were back and intact.

To be in _Heaven…_

He smiled.

He didn't think there was a Heaven waiting for him. He thought other androids had the right to one. He never felt deserving. But perhaps, just maybe he did some things right in his short life. Maybe he did do some redeeming things to get him this beautiful afterlife.

There was only one problem with it.

Hank was not there.

However, he saw Hank one last time just like he wanted. It was enough for him. And if he was really lucky, the two of them would reunite in Heaven when the time came.

Connor continued his walk, his eyes still looking all over the place. He wondered if his Heaven would change the more he spent time there. It wasn't as if he could leave. He would be there forever but during that forever there was a chance things would change. In a good way, naturally.

Much to his surprise, the sky started to change into a more orange-y colour with some pink mixed in. He watched in amazement as the sun started to set, something he most certainly did not expect. He believed it would always be daytime. For it to change was quite interesting.

Would the wonders never cease?

He decided to sit at the pond. He rolled up his pant legs, took off his shoes and socks, and dipped his feet in. He tilted his head. The water felt interesting. He couldn't quite describe it. But what he could describe was the almost tickle-ish feeling he got when the fish swam over his feet.

The sky became a navy blue and many stars started popping up all over the sky. The moon also made its way out. It reflected off the water.

Peace overcame Connor's body. He kept his feet in the water and laid back. He closed his eyes and slept.

* * *

A weight landed on his waist.

He immediately opened his eyes and then his eyes widened to the point he was surprised they didn't pop out. His LED flickered yellow only for a second before going back to blue. He tried to settle himself but he still couldn't believe it.

"Hi, Connor!"

A little boy he only saw in a photo was now sitting on his waist. His small hands were pressed on his chest. He had a charming smile and soft eyes. They were soft yet so full of excitement.

"Cole…"

The wonders would never cease. They would never cease.

"I've been wanting to meet you for a while!" Cole chimed. He remained on his waist. "You slept a long time! Almost a day. I guess you were tired."

Connor blinked. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He closed his mouth again.

"It's kind of early for us to meet though..." Cole went on, tilting his head. "It should've been a few years. I thought Sumo would be my first reunion."

"Uh…"

Cole hopped off his waist. Connor got up shortly after and got his feet out of the pond. He turned and faced the little boy. He still had a bright smile. The boy was looking around his Heaven.

"What are you doing here, Cole?" Connor asked.

"I wanted to see what your Heaven was like!" he answered. "It's different than mine. I also wanted to meet you."

Connor tilted his head. "What is your Heaven like?"

"Nope!"

"Uh…'Nope'?"

"Nope!" Cole repeated. He looked back to Connor. "You and me and Dad and Sumo will share a Heaven one day! I know we will!"

"Will we? I mean...I'm an android…"

"You are but it doesn't matter!" Cole said. He started walking away. Connor followed. "You're an Anderson now! You're part of the family. You'll be in our Heaven."

Connor paused. Cole turned to face him. The little boy looked so determined and sure. Connor, on the other hand, had a frown.

"Really…?"

He assumed that he barely made it in this Heaven. How could he end up in someone else's Heaven? Cole seemed so positive and sure about it, though…

"For sure," he said. "You're welcome in our family. Unless you don't want that…"

Now the boy seemed dejected.

Connor quickly shook his head. "No," he said. "No, I…"

Being with everyone in the Anderson family, to be officially apart of them warmed his heart. He smiled softly.

"I would like that a lot."

Cole took his hand. "Great!"

For a boy who was dead, he seemed rather comfortable with it. He could understand adults or maybe even teenagers being okay with death, but a young boy? He thought he would be lonely with no one around. But if he could hop from Heaven to Heaven then maybe it wasn't so bad.

Cole was interesting.

"Okay, so give me a tour!"

Connor laughed. "Fine."

* * *

Connor took Cole all around his Heaven. He talked about some of the flowers he didn't know about, he talked about some of the fish in his pond, he did what he could to make the walk around interesting.

Cole climbed up one of the trees and bragged about how high he could climb. He also bragged that he couldn't get hurt, even if he did fall. Connor listened and laughed now and then. Cole was indeed an interesting child. He was sure Hank would love to see this.

When nighttime came around, Cole got tired. Connor sat against the tree they were hanging around most of the day. He patted his lap, something he assumed Hank would do. Cole smiled and curled up in Connor's lap. Connor ruffled his hair.

Doing all these things made him miss Hank.

_I was proud to be your partner, Hank. And for the little time that I was, I was proud to be part of your family._

* * *

Because it was Heaven there was no reason to keep track of how many days passed. There was no stress in it. It was just a calm place to be. Time didn't matter. That's what Connor originally thought.

He was in the pond with Cole, trying to catch some of the fish in a self-made net. For the most part, the little boy mostly bounced around and then bragged whenever he caught some fish. Connor got the sneaky suspicion that Hank would probably he the same way if he ever took Connor fishing, bragging about catching more fish. But Hank would not be able to take him fishing.

These were all random thoughts that popped up in his mind now and then whenever he spent more time with Cole.

It was when they were playing in the pond that they both heard it.

"Connor, you have to listen to me. You can't do this to me."

Both of them paused and looked around. Connor's LED flickered yellow. Cole smiled.

It was Hank's voice.

"I can tell you've been through a lot in your time away," Hank said, his voice echoing. "But you and I can fix it. We can heal together."

Connor walked out of the pond. He stared up at the sky.

"Please, Connor. I can't do this again."

A strange pressure came to Connor's chest. He swallowed hard. His eyes began to water, making his vision blurry.

"I won't leave you ever again. I won't hurt you again or throw you away…" Hank's voice shook as it continued to echo. "I can't lose another kid, Connor…"

Connor dropped to his knees. The tears he tried to hold back finally left his eyes.

"Hank…"

"Well, it looks like the time's come."

Connor turned. Cole was still standing in the middle of the pond. His smile and eyes were so gentle.

"Huh…?"

"If you can hear Dad, it means that you're going to be okay," Cole said. He swayed back and forth, his smile growing. "I was wondering if you would be saved or not."

Connor turned to completely face Cole. "I'm still alive?"

"Well, you did die...but they managed to get you back!" Cole said. "It sure took them so long! But you can wake up now, Connor!"

"You're okay with me being gone? You'll be alone again…"

Cole finally left the pond. He walked right up to Connor. "I know but it's okay. I know we'll all reunite and share the same Heaven someday. That's what I told you!"

Connor leaned down to get to the child's level. He smiled. "Thank you, Cole...For keeping me company."

Cole laughed. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Connor. Connor stilled for a moment at the abrupt gesture. Then he carefully returned the embrace. After a long moment of comfortable silence, the two of them pulled back.

"You take care of Dad!"

"I will. I promise."

Connor ruffled Cole's hair one last time.

He closed his eyes.

* * *

Connor's eyes fluttered open. Unlike when he woke up in Heaven, he didn't need to cover his eyes. The light in the room was dim. It also wasn't as warm as it was but he still felt comfortable. A soft blanket was draped over his body.

He couldn't quite recognize this room. It was a decent size but it only had the bed he was lying on. It reminded him of a secluded hospital room but it wasn't like the repair centers. He didn't know what that meant and he almost didn't care.

He didn't care because when he looked to his left, Hank Anderson was there. He sat in a surprisingly comfortable looking chair. His eyes were shut and he snored lightly. He also had a blanket on his lap.

He was holding Connor's hand.

Connor couldn't move his body to reciprocate the action. He could, however, say something he did to Hank every morning.

"Good morning, Hank."

"JESUS!"

Connor's lips twitched up into a smirk.

Hank had jerked awake and sat up straighter, his eyes wide and mouth slightly gaping open as he stared at Connor. He leaned closer and Connor could tell it was taking a lot of effort for Hank not to burst.

"Connor…" Hank's voice was a mix of shocked and gentle and Connor wondered how he could manage that.

When Hank seemed to settle a bit better, Connor finally took in Hank's appearance. It wasn't that he didn't look the same. However, the man looked tired with heavy bags under his eyes. His skin seemed paler and his hair was messier than it normally was.

...His eyes were also watering.

Connor didn't know what to say. So, he remained silent. He decided to let Hank have his moment.

Hank's grip on Connor's hand tightened. He hunched in on himself and stared at the floor, making it hard for Connor to continue to make out his expression thanks to all that hair covering him up. His body shook and Connor heard him take a shaky breath.

Connor wanted to reach over and hold onto him. Hank always held him whenever he was in some kind of pain, yet Connor couldn't return the action. He felt a pang of guilt hit him when Hank choked out a sob- a sob Connor knew he was trying to hold back.

"I'm sorry, Hank…" Connor whispered, gently. "I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry."

Hank shook his head. He kept silent with the exception of his quiet sobs.

They remained silent after that. Connor let Hank let out the emotions he may have been holding in for as long as Connor had. Connor decided he didn't like crying, but he realized that maybe it was healthy. Maybe it was okay if it meant recovering, even if only a little. Happy tears, he quickly decided, didn't count.

It took fifteen minutes for Hank to calm down and for Connor's LED to go back to blue. Hank sat straighter and moved his chair closer to the bed, if that was possible. Connor wanted to brush the stray strands of hair out of Hank's tired face and wipe away any remaining tears.

"Connor, I need to ask you some questions," Hank said, carefully. "Are you up for it?"

Connor worried his lip. He expected this. "I can try."

He already knew what the first one would be.

"What happened on the train? With that son of a bitch Michael?"

Connor closed his eyes. "...I was the one who killed him. But that wasn't my intention," he started. "I just...I wanted him to realize that how he treated me was wrong. It wasn't fair and I wanted him to know that. So, I just…"

He shook his head.

"But I didn't mean to kill him," Connor continued. "I really didn't mean to. I never wanted to kill anyone."

"I know, Connor," Hank said. He reached over and stroked the top of his head. "Anyone would snap after what you went through. I'm not angry. I just needed to know."

Connor nodded. He opened his eyes again and stared at the ceiling. "What's next?"

Hank seemed more hesitant this time. Connor didn't look at him. He didn't want to see what kind of eyes he had.

"What happened to you? Where did all those injuries come from?" Hank finally asked, after a long moment of silence. "Was it Cyberlife?"

Connor shook his head again. "No. No, Cyberlife didn't do any of that. I jumped the train before reaching their facility. They were things that happened on my way home…"

The last thing he wanted to do was look back on what happened. Especially the Room of Horrors. That was the thing he despised the most. He didn't want Hank to know about that, not right away. He would definitely not look at him the same way. How could he? For the moment, Connor would keep silent about it.

"Is there anything you're willing to tell me?"

Connor thought about it. The main problem truly was the Room of Horrors. He was still on the fence about telling Hank about his experiences.

"No."

Hank nodded slowly. "Okay," he said. "Tell me whenever you're ready. I won't push you."

"Thank you, Hank."

Although Hank could indeed be very impatient, he could also manage to have the patience of a saint.

"Anything else?"

He would prefer to stop answering questions that would trigger the terrible memories. Perhaps someday but not now. He wanted to relax now that he was awake. He could put up with some things, he supposed, but there was only so much he could handle.

When Hank said nothing more, Connor decided he would ask something. He asked the million dollar question.

"...Why did you throw me away that day?"

He could feel Hank tense and stop halfway through stroking the top of his head. The grip on his hand also tensed. Connor looked to him. He regretted it. Hank's eyes held so much remorse and sorrow that it made Connor want to hug him again.

God damn it, why couldn't his body move?

"I didn't want to, Connor. I never wanted to throw you away- never wanted to hurt you like that."

Connor knew that. He just wanted the reason.

Hank sighed. He didn't look at Connor anymore. He stared at his hand instead, thumbing the back of it.

"Michael told me that if you ran away to me one more time, Cyberlife was going to take you apart and melt the pieces," Hank continued. He furrowed his brows and glared, still keeping his eyes off Connor. "Even when you got to Houston and attempted to run back. They said they would destroy you."

Connor's frown deepened. He swallowed hard, a gesture he had not done in quite a while.

"I didn't know what to do. So before you were taken away, I told you what I thought Cyberlife would want me to say, told you something that would keep you away."

"That I was dangerous. That you didn't…" Connor trailed off. He sighed. "That you didn't want me anymore."

"I wanted you to live. I didn't want you to die because of me, so I tried to say something to make you stay away. It was much harder than you think."

"I know it was hard, Hank," Connor said. "I saw your eyes. You looked so upset- I knew it wasn't your fault."

Connor was hurt that day. He was stressed and scared. It was hard to ignore when he first heard Hank's words. It didn't help that a bastard like Michael was there, taunting him about it. He never expected Hank to say cruel words like that to him. Even if he knew he was forced to, at the time, it hurt him more than anything.

Now that he knew the reason, he didn't feel as pained about it anymore. It actually felt nice to hear it from the source.

"You were saving me…"

Hank saved him a lot. He may not have realized it himself, but he did. Hank always saved him.

After another long moment of silence (Connor was fine with them), he asked another million dollar question.

"What...What exactly did Cyberlife want from me?" Connor asked. "Is it only the registry? Was there something more to it?"

Hank took another deep breath. There was some frustration in it but Connor knew it wasn't directed at him.

"They said a lot techno-babble that was hard to understand," Hank started, staring intently as if it would help him find the proper words. "They said something about...wanting to do something about your deviancy. They wanted to check it or...something, something about your software?"

Connor tilted his head. He felt worse for Hank than himself. It was just like Cyberlife to use technological talk on Hank. Hank knew very little about androids, even with Connor trying to help him.

"They mentioned something about updates, too. Something like wanting to secure your programs?"

Poor Hank sounded so lost trying to explain what Cyberlife told him. Connor could somewhat put pieces together, even if Hank had a hard time with it.

"From what I gather...Cyberlife used the registry as an excuse to mess with me," Connor began, his LED blinking yellow as he thought about it. "Maybe because I was the only android left in there, they thought it was okay to test something on deviancy."

Or something like that. He wished he was there.

"And...Update my programs to make me less dangerous. That's all I can get from what you told me."

"That sounds like what they were trying to say," Hank agreed, though he did still sound a little confused. "They weren't really super clear on it. I told them to use normal language but god fucking forbid."

Connor shook his head. "They were probably using 'techno-babble' to try and make you give up on me. Make it too complicated for you and make you give up because of it."

"Sons of bitches," Hank grumbled.

"Am I still in ther-"

"Fuck no!"

Connor blinked.

Hank smirked now, looking much more confident. "I won. I finally managed to get you out. You're free."

Connor sighed in relief. His body loosened and he closed his eyes in content. "Finally…"

Now he didn't have to worry about that additional stress. Finally being completely free gave him so much joy, he was surprised he didn't do more crying. He had become a bit of an emotional wreck. Maybe it wasn't bad, though.

His LED was blue.

* * *

Connor was checked on by an android nurse the next day and was told it would be a good idea if he stayed in Jericho for another day or two. He needed some time to test out his new hand and leg. According to Hank and the nurse, he had been dead for almost two weeks. He was more worried about Hank's well-being than his own, knowing that the man stayed by his side the whole time.

He nagged Hank about it. Hank brushed him off and said he would go out and get food for dinner. He would also give Sumo some walks and made sure to feed him every day. For the most part though, every day, he was sitting by Connor's side. He talked to him, told him stories, tried to yell at him to come back to life.

Apparently it was Markus' idea to talk to him. Hank almost gave up but Markus told him that it would be a good idea to talk to him. If Hank was lucky, he would respond to his voice and he did.

He loved Hank too much not to listen to him. He loved him too much not to be with him again. He wanted to be with his father again, unofficial or not.

Now, Connor sat on the bed, straighter this time. His body was still slouched but it was getting better. He didn't bend his legs, still too nervous about it. It didn't matter that it was new. He felt much more comfortable starting with his hand.

And with Hank's encouragement, he felt like there was some hope that he would be able to recover decently. The faster he recovered, the faster he would be out of Jericho. It was nice of them to fix him there (no repair center would accept him, from what he was told), but he wanted to be at home.

At the house.

Hank came in with a certain object Connor left behind. His eyes immediately lit up and he swore they had sparkles in them. He held out his hand, right hand, excitedly.

"My coin!"

Hank scoffed and handed it to him. "You sure seem happier to see that than me."

"Aw, don't be jealous, Hank." Connor smirked.

The amusement dissolved when the cool object was now sitting in the palm of his hand. It had been so long since he flipped a coin. His fingers also felt stiff, even if he had been doing some exercises. It felt strange, for he was an android and this should not have been happening.

"No laughing when I fail," Connor mumbled, nervously. "Because I know I will."

Hank sat in the chair and nodded.

Connor took a deep breath. He got his fingers in position and…

Flipped the coin across the room instead of straight up like normal. He stared dumbfounded, watching the coin roll on the floor and stop with a light ting. He didn't expect to flip it across the room. He didn't even know how that happened.

"Uh…"

Hank stood and went to pick it up. He brought it back and gently put it in Connor's palm again. Connor only huffed. Hank ruffled his hair.

Connor tried again. He failed again but not as bad, the coin didn't flip as far. It was also a little straighter. Hank would keep going back and forth and gave Connor a pat on the back. Connor pouted. He kept trying.

He failed quite a few times until he eventually groaned loudly. "I can't do it right!"

"It's okay, Connor-"

"No, it isn't okay! This should not be happening. I'm an android, and this was second nature before!"

"Yeah, _before_. It's been so long and you lost your hand," Hank said. He gave Connor his coin again. "It'll take a little bit of time still. You just got up."

Connor grumbled nonsense.

* * *

Hank brought in some clothes for Connor the next day. Needless to say, he was basically drowning in a hippy shirt, sweatpants, and had slippers a bit too big for his feet. He managed to tighten the pants around his waist a bit so they wouldn't fall off. They still pooled on top of his feet, though. When he attempted to roll up his sleeves, they just rolled right back down and covered up his hands. The slippers weren't so bad, at least.

"It'll only be for a little while," Hank said. Connor knew he was having a hard time not smirking at him. "We'll buy you new clothes later."

Connor nodded.

At first he didn't want to change with Hank there. He didn't want him to see the damages that _that man_ gave him. That was until he remembered that he was good as new and clean. Hank probably already saw it all anyway, if he stayed in to watch him get repaired. He didn't ask him about it. He would rather not know.

He sat with his legs over the side of the bed after having gotten dressed, and he had been lightly swinging his right leg. It felt stiffer than he thought it would, despite being brand new. Hank tried to tell him it was normal, especially because Connor had been lying down for almost two weeks with no movement whatsoever.

It didn't make him feel any better. He didn't like feeling weak and stiff.

Hank stood a few feet away from him. He held his hands out. "Okay, try this length. It shouldn't be too hard."

Connor gripped at the mattress and stared at the floor. It was ridiculous to feel nervous, he knew.

"I'll be here to catch you if you stumble."

Connor nodded. He closed his eyes and counted to five. He stood slowly and kept still when he was up. He had a slight slouch and he tried to ignore it, more so focusing on how strange it felt being able to stand with both legs normally.

It didn't make sense, he thought, because he stood normally in Heaven. Life didn't make sense and he hated it.

He tried to take a step forward and he got ready to fall. He was surprised when he didn't. He did shake a bit when his foot landed back on the floor. There was no shock, something he had gotten used to but was still bothersome. He moved his left foot much easier. It was only his right that gave him trouble.

"You're doing good," Hank said, smiling.

Connor wanted to believe that, but he felt the opposite. He barely made progress in moving. He could not make normal and confident strides, unlike before. He felt more like he was shuffling than walking. He glared at his feet.

Hank sighed. "It's going to take a little bit, Connor. Don't be frustrated."

"I just want to be normal again," Connor admitted. He stopped when he reached Hank.

"Connor…"

"I know it's not going to be possible, though." His LED blinked yellow. "Hank...I'm not…"

He didn't want to say it.

"I'm not the same person I was when I left," Connor said, quietly. He shifted his eyes to the side. "I'm not the same at all…"

"I know you're not, Connor," Hank said, gently. He squeezed his shoulder lightly. "I don't expect you to be the same. I know you've been through hell since you were taken away."

Connor looked up, nervously. Hank's eyes were as understanding as ever. "You're okay with that? You still want me?"

"Of course I still want you," Hank said, firmly. "You're my son, Connor. I'm not going to throw you away again."

Connor stilled. His eyes had widened a little and his LED went red. "...What?"

"If you think I was going to take any chances with anyone trying to take you from me again, you're wrong. I went ahead and got it done when I got the chance."

Connor remained silent. He worried his lip. His systems stuttered but for some reason, he didn't think it was a bad thing. His vision blurred. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He thought back to what Cole said. He mentioned that he was an Anderson and that was why he would be in their Heaven. He didn't think it was actually official.

"Okay, don't cry. It'll make me start," Hank said in a teasing manner. He ruffled his hair. "Let's take it one step at a time, though. Do you know what I mean?"

Connor nodded. "Yes, I know. I'll be careful with my words."

Hank chuckled. Then he got serious again. "I just want to confirm that you know that you aren't a replacement, like some have said. You're your own person. I've never looked at you as a replacement. Do you understand that, too?"

"I understand."

He would defend himself and Hank if anyone had the nerve to say accusations like that. It did feel good that Hank saw him as his own person. It felt good to actually hear it. He knew he wasn't a replacement, but he was glad to hear it from Hank.

"Now then, let's get to work."

"My steps are going to be so slow…" Connor complained, huffing.

* * *

Connor decided to stay in Jericho for a bit longer to improve his steps and hand movements. His hand movements were the first to get better, something he expected. Now that he could do his coin tricks again, he could calm himself down easier and didn't always need someone by his side.

His steps were still slow but he could make longer strides. He preferred when Hank was by his side. When the time came to leave, the two of them took the back door to avoid anyone's attention.

There wasn't as much snow as Connor remembered when they got outside. Then he remembered it was February. It would snow less and snow would start going away now and he was grateful for it. The less reminders of the past, the better. He was also grateful when Hank told him he managed to get rid of any reporters.

And of course, Connor asked, "what do you mean there were reporters?"

"Well, you walked one thousand miles just to come home to me," Hank said, as if this was more amazing than it was. "No android has walked that far before- no less one that was as battered as you."

Connor sighed. "No less one that knew nothing about the world," he mumbled.

"Yeah...It was pretty fuckin' impressive if you ask me."

Connor only shrugged.

Halfway to Hank's car, they saw two unexpected visitors waiting for them. Connor frowned and stepped closer to Hank. Hank glared ahead.

It was Stone and Carry. Carry wasn't so bad, from what Hank told him. He also knew that from the day she helped him escape. Stone, on the other hand, did nothing.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Hank snapped.

"We're not here to hurt you or bother you-"

"You're always a bother, motherfucker," Hank said, his glare deepening. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to come here and see for myself. See if Connor really did make it back and lived," Stone said. His voice was even and he didn't sound condescending. "I'm glad to see you're alive."

Connor doubted it. He didn't say anything. He rubbed his hands together and it felt great to be able to do that again. It also helped loosen his hand.

"What else?" Hank asked, suspiciously. "In case you forgot, Connor isn't in the registry anymore. You can't take him."

Stone shook his head. "I'm not here to take him away, Lieutenant."

Carry nodded in agreement. "He isn't, I promise."

There was a hidden message in her words that Connor couldn't make out.

"Connor, Carry told me about the things that happened to you in the facility. She told me the things Michael did to you," Stone started. He actually sounded remorseful but he kept his eye contact. "If I knew what was happening, I would have taken you out of there right away."

Connor's frown deepened. Hank didn't stop glaring.

"Every time Michael did something to you, I made sure to keep track of it," Carry piped in. She looked down. "I was scared to share it right away...I guess I was hoping he would stop on his own."

Connor didn't blame her. If he was in her position, he might've been scared, too.

"I told Mr. Stone about it all when you were taken on your trip. I thought maybe you would be taken right back here if he knew. But you escaped before getting to the facility."

Connor glanced at Hank. He looked uncertain.

"I'm not lying to you, Connor, Hank," Stone continued. He sighed. "I wouldn't have let you stay in there if I knew it was that bad. I didn't know."

Obviously.

"You know what, it's too late for apologies," Hank interrupted. "Go away."

"I'm sorry for all the pain you had to endure, Connor."

Connor said nothing.

Stone nodded to both him and Hank. Then he turned and walked back to his car, with Carry following behind him. She smiled at them. She did the best she could and Connor was grateful for that.

After they drove away, Connor looked to Hank again. "Is it over now, Hank?"

Hank patted his shoulder. He smiled. "Yeah. It's over now."

Connor smiled softly. "Then...take me home, Dad."

* * *

"Oh boy...This is probably gonna be a mess," Hank said stopping at the doorway.

Connor tilted his head. "Uh...what?"

"Sumo is gonna go crazy," Hank said, rubbing his forehead. "Just...prepare yourself."

With that, Hank unlocked the door and he and Connor walked inside. Much to Hank and Connor's surprise, Sumo wasn't there. The two of them glanced at each other, confused.

"Sumo!" Hank called, stepping further in the house. Connor followed him. "Sumo! Connor's come home!"

That did it.

Sumo came dashing out from the hallway and Connor barely had time to react before Sumo jumped on him. He collapsed onto his back with a grunt. He didn't get the chance to cover his head before Sumo licked his face all over. The dog's tail was wagging and he was pressing his snout all in Connor's face.

Hank laughed.

"S-Sum-" Connor was cut off as Sumo's tongue continued licking him. "I missed you-" More licking. "-Too!"

He couldn't say anymore, not unless he wanted the dog's tongue in his mouth and he definitely didn't want that.

"Okay, okay, get off him already!" Hank scolded, though he still had a smile.

Sumo gave Connor's face two long licks before getting off him. He trotted away to his food bowl.

Connor huffed and wiped away all the drool, grateful that he had long sleeves to do so. "That was...something…"

"What did I tell you?" Hank teased. He reached down and helped Connor up.

Connor said nothing. Instead he looked around the house. He smiled. It was the same as when he left. He was filled with warmth at the sight. Hank seemed to notice this, because he ruffled his hair and smiled. He then left to the kitchen.

Although he was comfortable in Heaven, he felt much more comfortable here. This was his place. This was where he belonged. This was where he was loved unconditionally.

"So, listen…" Hank started, snapping Connor out of his thoughts. "I recorded a lot of documentaries while you were away."

Connor tilted his head. "Did you?"

"I figured you would want something to watch when you got back." Hank took his coffee out of the maker. He looked back to Connor. "Are you up for a document binge?"

Connor blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. If you're up for it."

"I would like that a lot," Connor said, his smile widening.

* * *

It was 10:00PM.

Connor and Hank only got through five documentaries so far. Most of them were new, too. The two of them sat on the couch, instead of just Connor and Sumo on the couch and Hank sitting in his armchair. Sumo sat near Connor's feet, his head resting on them. They had a large blanket draped over their laps.

This was how things were supposed to be.

Connor leaned against Hank. Hank wrapped an arm around his shoulders and held him closer. He closed his eyes.

He knew there would be a lot of healing yet. There were many problems he developed and it would take awhile to recover. But he was not alone. He had Hank Anderson to help him. He had all he needed.

It was good to be home. Home sweet home.

**THE END**

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

And that's it! That's the end. I'm very happy with how this all turned out. There were so many things that were taken out but so many things that were also added. The things that were added definitely made up for things that were taken out. I wonder if you'll believe me when I say _Home Sweet Home_ wasn't originally this intense? It honestly wasn't. Then I realized that going home isn't easy, especially for someone like Connor. It wouldn't be a cake-walk. So writing Connor getting home was very satisfying.

I want to thank everyone who read and stuck around and commented, faved, followed, etc. I honestly didn't expect this story to get a lot of reception, if any at all, so I'm grateful for ya'll. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

That's all for now. I'll see ya'll later.

Thanks for reading!

~Kurosaki


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